Shattered
by Abellen
Summary: It only takes a moment to shatter someone's life apart. When Ingrid's parents are killed it seems that things couldn't get worse for X's girl genius, but it's only the beginning. IF. Rated for themes. See author's notes.
1. The Fall

A/N: This fanfiction will try to stay as in-character as possible, but is exploring the characters of Ingrid and Fillmore in more detail. It may also touch on subjects of a more adult nature, such as sexual abuse. There will be no graphic sex or violence, but the rating is there for author safety. Warnings will be put at the top of chapters where necessary.

**Shattered**

By: Abellen

**Chapter One: The Fall.**

It was a rainy day at X middle school: definitely not my kind of day. The rain was collecting on the steps in puddles, and rushing in torrents towards the storm drains. It was going to be another dismal fall, but at least that meant crime was at a low. On days like today forgery and extortion were non-existent. People kept their heads down and tried not to forget the long hot days of summer, or think about the hours of school that lay ahead.

Most kids don't care about crime, but I'm one of the few. My name's Fillmore, Cornelius Fillmore, X Middle School Safety Patrol. Vallejo once said my partner Ingrid Third and I were the best he had. He hasn't said it since, but Vallejo's never been loose with his praises.

The corridors were quiet at this time of day. Twenty minutes before the bell rang for lessons others were either still in bed, wishing it were Saturday, or were sitting in a school bus watching the rain. The only sound I heard was of Principal Folsom in her office humming to herself as she dosed up on her early morning three cappuccinos and a pop tart or two.

I took the key out of my pocket and slipped it into the lock of the Safety Patrol's office door. We all had one. It was understood by now that being an officer was what made each of us who we were. This was where we came between lessons and after school. This was where we hid behind paperwork when life got a bit too rough. It was kind of like family. A diverse and highly suspicious family.

I was the first one in, which was unusual. Ingrid normally beat me by ten minutes or so. It wasn't like her to be late. Third is, as many have said, a genius. She has a photographic memory, an advantage to any crime solving team, and she aces every test she takes. She has Ivy League written all over her and she is the best friend I've got.

I grabbed the purple mug, the one with the rabbit on the front. It's the only one left so there's always a queue for drinking hot chocolate in the morning. Ingrid had left a lipstick print on it. I always wondered if her lips are stained that dark from wearing that stuff. Maybe one day I'll catch her without it on and find out.

I caught sight of myself in the window to Vallejo's inner sanctum and frowned. Strange thoughts had been popping into my head about Ingrid recently. Thoughts that didn't belong in a partnership like we had. Not to mention the fact that I knew it was against Safety Patrol policy to get involved in anyway. It was just over-familiarity, that was all. I spent every day with her, so of course I'd think about her a lot.

'Hey, Fillmore.'

'Hey, you okay?'

'I'm fine. I just wish the rain would stop.' Karen Tehama smiled in a vague Monday morning way and brushed aside her fingerprint kit and microscope slides, picking up textbooks and assignments as she went. 'I have to get to class. I'm surprised Ingrid's not in yet.'

'I was just thinking the same thing. Have you heard anything?'

'No.' She wiped her pink bangs away from her eyes and I could see a regretful frown on her face. 'It's not like we stay in close touch though.'

'But you're the only girls in the squad!'

'But Ingrid's different. Surely you know that, Fillmore? She's my friend and everything, but she's never been overwhelmingly social has she, even with you?'

I gulped down the last of my hot chocolate and left as the bell rang in my ears. Third was probably in class, putting the finishing touches on another top grade essay. I traversed the treacherous morning rush and slid into Chemistry. There were times when I'd have skipped this class. There was a time I would have had better things to be doing. Now I knew lessons mattered, even if I hated Chemistry.

The hours until lunch idled away, minutes going as slow as years. Every class I would reassure myself that Third would be there, attentive as always, but she didn't show. I was walking back to the office in a daze when Joseph Anza rushed up to me.

'Is Ingrid with you?'

'No man, she hasn't been in all day. Why?'

Anza had rolled his eyes and heaved as sigh. 'Vallejo's going nuts because there's nothing to do, so he's treating Third's absence as though it's worth expulsion or something.'

I shook my head and walked into the office in time to catch Tehama's words of reason.

'It's probably the 'Flu, Chief. Everyone's entitled to get sick sometimes.'

'Do you remember the bronchitis epidemic, Tehama? Ingrid had it full-blown. She was a coughing, spluttering, feverish ball of pus and she was still at that desk. Heck, she still aced that Biology paper. Ingrid would have to be dead and buried before she missed a day at school.'

As soon as Vallejo said it a strange hush filled the room. Danny stopped swiveling on his chair and stared in horror. I felt a sweat break out across my forehead as Anza staggered backward.

'You don't think?'

'No, no.' The Junior Commissioner was waving his hands and shaking his head but even I could see he was pale and worried. 'She'll be here tomorrow. Fillmore, you make sure of it. Go round to her house. You know where she lives; I know you do. See if she's okay - if you can help her.'

'Are you sure? I mean, I thought we weren't supposed to?'

'This is important, Fillmore.'

I narrowed my eyes and tried to read Vallejo's features. His eyes were darting around in his chubby face and he was wringing his hands. I peered over his shoulder to the desk in his office. It was littered with paperwork, including file photos and a letter on the Principal's personal stationary.

'Anything we should know?'

'No, just - just see if she's all right.'

* * *

The rain was running down the back of my neck and my t-shirt was soaked through by the time I reached the Third residence. It was a non-descript detached house. It looked pretty much like every other in their street. There was a neat front yard and a clean, swept driveway. It was void of any cars. I knew from Ingrid's frequent complaints that their garage was converted into an office for her mother. Ingrid had wanted it to be her study, but her parents had decided her bedroom would have to do.

The front door was locked and I huddled in the small overhang of the front porch as I waited for someone to answer my frantic ringing of the doorbell. It soon became apparent that no one was home. This morning's paper was still wedged in the letterbox. The print was smudged and illegible from the rain.

I stepped backwards and felt something under my shoe. Looking down I saw a rose. The petals were brilliant, blood red and the raindrops clustered at the flower's core. Someone more poetic that I may have likened them to diamonds or something. I saw it as sinister. Someone knew something. Red roses were a Valentine's day thing, but this bloom was eight months late.

I pulled a tissue from my pocket and wrapped it around the stem, frowning as tiny scratches of red marred the blank white. There was blood on the thorns, or perhaps a dye of some kind. I'd better get it back to Tehama.

I looked back at the house as I walked away. Ingrid's window was blank and gloomy. No light shone through the rain-streaked glass. The house was vacant and to me it seemed chilling in its neglect. Still, I told myself that there was nothing to worry about. Ingrid would be back tomorrow. Of course she would be.

* * *

'It's dye, not blood. There's a high sulphur content to it. That suggests it was mixed up at home. Sulphur is yellow. It looks like someone made this out of food coloring. Look at the slide, it's more orange than red.' Tehama motioned me towards the microscope and I squinted down the tube. I didn't know how she did it, but when it came to forensics Karen knew what she was doing.

'Who would leave a rose with dye on its thorns on Ingrid's doorstep?'

'Who knows? There are a lot of weird people around, Fillmore.'

'It's not just that, it's creepy.' O'Farrell muttered. 'It's like someone knows something we don't. I don't like that. I'm worried about Ingrid.'

'So are the rest of us, Danny.'

There was a knock at the door and for a second I felt a thrill of relief before my heart slumped again. It was Third all right, but not the right one. Ariella, Ingrid's older sister, stood at the door. Her eyes were bloodshot and bleary behind her glasses and she looked as though she'd been crying. Her hair was disheveled; as were her clothes but she still walked with the confidence that both the Third daughter's possessed.

'Hello, Fillmore. I'm afraid I need to talk to the Junior Commissioner.'

'About Ingrid?'

'Yes, about Ingrid.'

'Is she all right? What's happened to her?' For a minute I thought she wasn't going to tell me, but she sunk into a chair and began to speak in a level and carefully moderated voice.

'She's in hospital. She sustained head injuries during a car crash the night before last. The doctor's think she'll be all right but she hasn't shown any signs of waking up.'

'Was anyone else involved?' I asked, only to stop when a tear tumbled over Ariella's lashes. I handed her a box of tissues and waited until she her composure under shaky control.

'You have to understand, Fillmore, that the accident was nobody's fault. Ingrid was hurt, but she survived because she was in the back. Our parents… they weren't so lucky.'

'Oh, no!' Tehama whispered, her face pale.

'We're orphans now. Ingrid doesn't know yet, that's why I'm here. I don't know how long she'll be away for, or what's going to happen to us.' Another tear fell and Vallejo ushered her into his office and sat her down, closing the door quietly behind them and leaving the office to sink into the silence of grief.

**End of Chapter One**

Author's Notes: This is a Fillmore! fic I abandoned long ago, and decided to resurrect, and complete. It was published under the name Kasari, with the title "The Ivory Touch". Just a quick note to say that I'm British, so 'these speech marks' and any strange spelling is probably a result of that. Oh, and I'm not sure what ages Middle School encompasses, so for the purposes of this story Ingrid and Fillmore are in their early teens.

Feedback is always appreciated, but no flames please! Let me know if you think this is worth continuing.


	2. Found

**Shattered**

By: Abellen

**Chapter Two: Found**

I hate hospitals, and above all else I hate hospital receptionists. The woman behind the desk was glaring at me as though I'd been caught pushing old people down some stairs. She had wiry brown hair in a cloud around her old and fearsome face. Her lips were thin and the metallic pink lipstick only emphasized that fact, and she had it on her front teeth too.

'You are not next of kin, therefore you cannot see the patient.' Her tone was flat and slow, as though she thought she was talking to an idiot.

'She's my partner and my friend,' I explained through gritted teeth. 'Her sister Ariella is her next of kin and she said I should visit. I want to see Ingrid Third and Ma'am if you won't help me then I'll find her myself.'

The receptionist gasped as I turned on my heel and began to stride down the corridor. The signs were in bright colors, but not very helpful. Ingrid had a head injury and was unconscious so she was an in-patient. She wouldn't be in x-ray, but did she have a private room or was she on a ward?

I wandered around for a good half hour before I found her. A nurse was just coming out of the door, shaking her head to herself as she did so, and the chart in her hands clearly stated the patient's name.

'Excuse me, miss? Is it all right to see her?'

The nurse pursed her lips. 'Well, there's no real reason why not. I'll have to take some form of identification and remain in the room with you though.'

'That's fine.'

The room as full of hospital equipment, but at least Ingrid wasn't using too much of it. A heart rate monitor beeped to itself in the corner and there was an IV going into her arm. She lay very still and stiff in the bed, almost corpse-like. A bright white bandage wrapped around her forehead and making her hair stick up at all angles. If she were awake she would complain like hell about that.

I sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb anything as I took her hand and patted it uselessly. She was in for it rough when she woke up. Her world had fallen apart and then carried on without her. I couldn't even begin to imagine life without my parents.

'Ingrid, we've been worried about you.' I stumbled on my words, feeling stupid for talking to someone who plainly couldn't hear me. 'I even went around your house to check you were all right.' I paused, wishing I'd known then that she was in a hospital bed, unconscious and orphaned. 'I'm sorry, Ingrid, about your parents.' I squeezed her hand a bit and carried on. 'You haven't missed anything. There've been no tests in class and there's nothing going on at the patrol. Vallejo seems to know something the rest of us don't, but he's not telling. At least not right now.'

'Keep talking to her,' the nurse urged, her eyes intent on the readouts from the monitors. 'She's responding to your voice in the same way she responded to her sister's. We thought she was going to wake up then but perhaps now…'

'Uh, Danny's been trying to take pictures of his butt again,' I smiled at that, 'and I caught Anza going through Tehama's desk this morning. He was looking for evidence that she had hooked up with someone. We didn't find anything though. She flipped when she found his fingerprints all over her stuff. You should've been there.'

I stopped, watching her face intently. I thought I'd just seen a flicker of movement. A small quirk of her lips or perhaps her eyelashes fluttering. I leant a little closer and muttered, 'Are you laughing at me?'

She turned her head a fraction of an inch and whispered. 'No, Fillmore.'

The nurse leapt towards the door. 'I'll get a doctor. Try to keep her awake. See if she remembers anything except who you are!'

I watched the young woman go before turning back to Ingrid. Her eyes were open a fraction, squinting as though the dim light hurt. Her grip was tight on my hand, her nails digging into my skin a bit as her features fell into lines of misery.

'You know, don't you?' I asked.

'Yes. It's the last image in my mind. I knew they were dead and I was reaching for Dad's cell phone but then… nothing.' She sighed and whispered, 'I don't believe it.'

She turned her head away from me and I fell silent. If she was crying she was quiet about it. I looked around for a tissue and ended up having to resort to the crumpled one in my pocket. 'Your sister will be here soon.' I reassured her as I tipped her head back to me and wiped at her face.

'But then what? Ariella's not old enough to look after me.'

'I expect Social Services will work something out.' That sounded like a grim prospect no matter how I said it. 'Listen, Ingrid, I have to go home for dinner. My parents say they're sorry for what happened, and that if you need anything…'

'Thanks, Fillmore.'

I stepped back, but was unwilling to leave. I leant down closer to the bed and carefully put an arm around her. 'I'll stay until your sister gets here, is that all right?'

We sat for a handful of minutes in silence. I didn't quite know what to do. I'd never in the entire length of our friendship seen Ingrid cry before, and I wasn't used to it. Tehama cried on a frequent basis over something or other. You gave her tissues and a bar of Hershey's and the problem solved itself. I didn't think it would be that easy with Ingrid.

Ariella rushed in with a doctor and I stepped back, only to be completely unbalanced when I was half crushed in a fierce hug. 'Thanks for helping her, Fillmore.' Ariella gave a fleeting smile before turning to her sister and cuddling the life out of her.

The doctor began to ask questions and I backed out of the room. Ingrid was alive, and it would take time but she'd be okay. She'd be back in no time, I was sure of it.

* * *

When I said "back in no time" I had not been expecting to see Ingrid sitting at her desk the next day. I started in alarm when she greeted me, then felt like a fool for being surprised.

'Does your sister know you're here?'

'Yes. Absolutely,' Ingrid replied, hardly looking up from the newspaper on her desk.

'You're lying, aren't you?'

'No!' There was a hint of a smile before she turned her attention back to the finances section. 'I'm not allowed to go to class. I'm thoroughly deskbound. Vallejo's made sure of it.' She motioned with her hand and I could see she'd been cuffed to the arm of her desk chair.

'How are you going to go to the bathroom?

'He said something about a bottle and a funnel.'

'If I were you I wouldn't drink too much hot chocolate. There are photocopies of all my notes in your drawer. They won't be as good as yours, and I fell asleep in French class, but I tried.'

She didn't say anything, just looked at me with her head tilted to one side. Her hair was still restricted by the bandage but it swung to brush her chin before she shoved it behind her ear. 'Thanks, you'd better get to class. Anything you need me to check out?'

'Nope, there's been nothing, except… someone left a red rose on your front porch, I found it when I went around to check on you the other day. I think it's on Tehama's desk. I thought you should know you have some kind of admirer.'

I shut the door behind me and scowled. That had sounded bitter, which was not what I'd meant to convey. Ingrid's business was her own and absolutely none of mine. By the time I was done in classes my mood was pretty foul. Anza was waiting for me in the corridor along with O'Farrell. They were talking in low voices, but stopped as I approached.

'Has Vallejo talked to you yet?' Anza asked.

'About what?'

'There's a new transfer student. He's a real rough guy apparently and gets pushed from school to school. X is meant to be his last chance.'

'What's he guilty of?'

'Harassment and intimidation. His victims are always female. He's meant to have gone for psychiatric evaluation but he was clean.' O'Farrell murmured.

'Dawg, just what we need. Some weirdo freaking the girls out.'

'Most girls are tougher than you think, Fillmore. There is one thing though. He chose to come to X,' Anza said, his tone thick with suspicion.

'It's a good school, what about it?'

'The Junior Commissioner's worried he might be tailing one of his previous victims. One he did more than just harass. He was physically violent, did her some real harm.'

'Anyone we know?'

'You're not going to like it.' O'Farrell warned as he pushed open the office door and entered the chaos within.

'It's Ingrid.'

I stopped in my tracks and stared openly at Anza. 'What?'

'We've not been told much, just that he was doing his normal bully thing and then lashed out at her.'

'How bad was it?' I demanded with more force than I'd intended.

Anza narrowed his eyes as he considered me, as though he were trying to find a reason for the strength of my reaction. 'We don't know. The Junior Commissioner's not telling. He's got us all watching her, but he won't tell her straight up himself. Doesn't want to make her life any worse.'

'Vallejo doesn't need to tell me. I can figure it out for myself.' Ingrid was leaning against her desk, twirling the red rose absently in her grip.

'How did you get out of those cuffs?' I asked.

'That's not important. Mike Harris is the transfer's name and if he were after me, we'd know by now. He's not the subtle type.' She sighed and for a second I could see how tired and miserable she really was. 'I'm going home. I'll see you on Monday.'

'Wait.' Anza held out a hand to stop her. 'Let one of us walk you home. Vallejo's getting grey hairs, and giving him a heart attack just isn't worth it.'

'There's no need.'

'Ingrid, come on,' I urged. 'My house isn't far from yours.'

'It's in completely the opposite direction, Fillmore!'

'Don't argue.'

She looked like she was going to put up a fight. Her eyes were narrowed and her chin tilted in defiance, but she just grabbed her bag and started walking, leaving me to catch up.

It was still raining like there was no tomorrow and Ingrid paused on the steps, opening up an umbrella before stepping out into the downpour. We walked in silence for a few minutes before she moved closer to my side and let me into the small circle of dryness below it.

'You really don't have to do this, Fillmore.'

'I know.' We waited at the crossing for the cars to stop before heading for the opposite sidewalk. 'But I want to. I mean, we were all worried as hell when you didn't show up on Monday and now there's Harris.'

'Who is not a problem.'

'What did he do to you?'

'Nothing.'

'Ingrid, it says in his file that you were the only girl he was physically violent towards. I know he did something.'

'It was nothing permanent.'

I scowled at my feet, thinking how I hated girls with mysterious pasts and how I despised my trainers, which leaked like a sieve. 'Fine, you don't have to tell me, but you know you'll feel better if you do.'

'No, I won't.'

'For a genius you're stubborn.'

'That's not an impediment to intelligence, you know.'

She was scowling now and her knuckles were white where they were clenched around the umbrella handle. I thought that perhaps I should leave it, but I never had been very good at taking my own advice. 'If it's not so bad then why won't you tell me?'

'Drop it,' she snapped, before turning on me and gesturing wildly down the street. 'Just go home, Fillmore!' She threw the umbrella at me and stalked off, leaving me standing in the rain like a fool.

I would have chased after her, but something told me that if I did we'd just end up not talking to each other in the morning. If Ingrid wouldn't tell me about Mike Harris then I'd find out myself. I had my ways.

**End of Chapter Two**

A/N: Thank you to the people who reviewed, it means a lot to me! This is a quick update to get the story going, and after this updates should (at most) be twice weekly, and (at least) be weekly. It's still being written, so it's a dynamic process, but a very fun one!

Just a quick note on ages: Ingrid and Fillmore are about fourteen in this fic. I am told this is possible in Middle School. If not, then please just use your imaginations.


	3. Fear

A/N: Just so you know at the moment we're following a two/two pattern. Two chapters from Fillmore's POV, and two from Ingrid's. This might change, depending on where the plot takes me.

**Shattered**

By: Abellen

**Chapter Three: Fear**

Tears were pouring down my face and mingling with the rain. I had to stop running because of the sobs racking through me. I didn't even know what they were about anymore. Everything was such a confused mess, and I despised the emotional wreckage that weighed so heavily on my mind.

I had thrown the umbrella at Fillmore in a fit of unusual tantrum: how typically stupid of me. I caught sight of my dappled reflection in a puddle and watched my face grimace. Ingrid Third, what a mess. My makeup was running. I didn't wear a lot, but none of it was waterproof. If Ariella saw me like this… If the social worker saw me like this…

I shook my head and carried on walking, balling my hands into fists as I strode down the road. I shouldn't have gone back to school. I wasn't ready for it; not for the sympathy and not for the trouble. My painkillers were wearing off, and my bandage was soaking. I needed to get home and sort myself out.

I drew in a ragged breath and bit my lip until the tears retreated and the emotion faded away. I hugged my bag to my chest, trying to use it like a shield against the world. The rose was sticking out of the top and a thorn clawed at my arm.

Mike Harris. He had made my life hell once, and the day he hit me I swore that never again would I just stand there and cry. Now I had a punch that demanded respect, and what some people might call an "attitude problem." He had broken two of my ribs, and what I'd done to deserve his attention I'd never know. It was one of those things that if it didn't kill you made you stronger.

I could understand the others' concern, and it was sweet and wonderful, but annoying. I knew that Harris wouldn't be a problem. I mean, a red rose? He'd never had that kind of style. A rueful smile crossed my lips as I thought of the little jolt I got when Fillmore had mentioned the flower. At first I'd thought, foolishly, that he had got it for me as a gift.

'Wishful thinking, Third,' I mumbled to myself. Still, it had been wonderful to open my eyes and see him standing next to me, a curious expression of worry and relief on his face.

I stepped onto my porch and put the key in the lock, twiddling it back and forth until I was finally allowed into my own home. I dumped my bag on the floor, grabbed some tissues from the box on the table and wiped my face, hardly daring to look at myself in the unforgiving mirror. I licked the tissue, like my mom used to when I was four and had been rolling in mud, and began to scrub at the black streaks of make-up. It took five minutes of hard work but eventually I no longer looked like a panda, just a teenager with issues.

'Ingrid, have you been all right at school?' Ariella rushed down the stairs and I had to smile at her. Art was her life, that much was obvious. She had a paintbrush tucked behind her ear and streaks of ink all over her bare forearms. Her glasses were crooked and the eyes behind them were full of tears, but she smiled to see me never the less. 'Have you been all right? I thought about dropping by, but I didn't want to embarrass you.'

'I was fine. I am fine, I promise.' I smiled at her gently before confronting the mirror again and unwrapping the damp bandage. The dressing slipped, revealing the deep cut across my temple. Neat stitches held the wound closed, but it was still an angry red.  
'Dinner's in a few. I'm afraid it's pizza again.'

'Don't worry about it,' I tried to reassure her, knowing that she was anxious over our future. We couldn't be split up, not now. Arial was a big girl at seventeen, but it didn't seem likely that Social Services would let her look after her gothic, genius little sister. Someone was meant to be stopping by at some time this evening. A "preliminary interview". Fillmore would say they were casing us out.

The telephone rang at the same time that the beeper went on the oven to indicate that if we didn't eat now, dinner would be charcoal. Ariella rushed into the kitchen and I grabbed the phone.

'Hello?'  
'It's me,' Fillmore's voice said bluntly. 'I wanted to check you made it home all right.'  
'Yes, thanks. Fillmore, I'm sorry about losing my temper. It hasn't been a good week.'  
'That's a bit of an understatement, and apology accepted. Mind if I walk you to school tomorrow?'  
'As a friend or a protector?'  
'Both. Always both, Ingrid.'  
'All right. I'll see you at seven.'  
'How about seven fifteen?'  
'No, Fillmore. Seven. I know this rose isn't from Harris, but I still want to know who left it here.'  
'Hmmm.' There was a trace of laughter in that little noise and I could almost see him trying not to smile. 'All right then. Take care and good luck with the social worker.'  
'Thanks. Hey wait, how did you -?' but it was too late. He was gone.

My sister and I ate pizza at the kitchen table, talking about this and that and never really touching the issues that dwelt on both our minds. We had to pay the bills, close our parents' accounts, talk to the lawyers, and sort out their clothes and things. But not today. The funeral was Friday, which was three days away. It was not something I felt like contemplating. It was not time to say goodbye, and perhaps it never would be.

It was almost time for me to go to bed when the doorbell rang. I had my school books spread out in front of me and was trying to work my way through French. I was clock watching and tapping my pen against my textbook without realizing it, and the piercing chime broke my reverie.

I tried to look like a good little girl doing her homework. I shuffled the complex, extra curricular algebra problem I'd been doing out of sight and instead tried to pay attention to French verbs. My sister led a woman into the room and I gave a hollow smile as she greeted me. She looked about forty, had red hair and smelled of cheap perfume. As I rose to shake her hand I realized how short she was, and how tired she looked.

'I – really, I want to set your mind at rest,' she said in a very soft voice, the kind people use to coax people down from high, narrow ledges. 'I know there are such a lot of horror stories about the work we do, but I wanted to assure you that it is very unlikely that either of you will have to leave your home, or your school, and most importantly each other.'

Ariella and I exchanged a glance and brief smile.

'What we want to do is help you through the legal and financial problems first.' She took out a thick wedge of forms and handed them to Ariella, who looked at them in horror.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

I slammed my palm down on my alarm clock, frustrated by its persistent beeping. I'd successfully ignored it for the past ten minutes, but Fillmore would be here soon and I couldn't bear the thought of him seeing me in my pajamas.

I struggled out of bed and into the bathroom. I flicked on the shower and let the water heat up while I brushed my teeth. Stepping under the spray I gave a soft sigh as bruises and scrapes were both stimulated and soothed. A quick burst of cold water washed away the last shreds of sleep before I turned the temperature to a comfortable medium and shampooed my hair.

It took a matter of minutes to get clean and dry. My black dress had pizza spilled down the front, and the two identical spares needed repairing. Crime was hard on clothes. Fillmore had fallen into fits of laughter when he realized I had three identical dresses. He said I was like one of those cartoons who always wore the same outfit. When I'd looked at his faded jeans and green t-shirt in a pointed way he'd smiled and said; 'I wear other clothes, you just never notice. Except those shorts.'

Yeah, I'd noticed those shorts. I sighed as I opened my wardrobe and pulled out a black t-shirt and pair of jeans. I'd been so surprised to see his legs I hadn't been able to resist comment.

'Ingrid! Fillmore's here!'  
'All right!' I pulled a face at myself in the mirror. My hair would have to dry by itself. I snatched up the tube of lipstick and put it on with practiced skill, but left the eyeliner in its pot. I did a quick rush around for books, grabbed my sash and hurried downstairs. Fillmore was holding my bag patiently as he leant against the wall looking tired and hungry.

'Stop!' Ariella rushed out of the kitchen, waving brown papers bags at us. 'Breakfast. Have a good day. Ingrid, your antibiotics and painkillers are in your bag, and Fillmore?' My sister smiled gently. 'Thanks for looking after her.'  
'No problem,' Fillmore answered with a warm smile in my direction.

The rain had stopped late last night but puddles dappled the ground and the wind still blew with spite as we made our way towards X.  
'All right, Ingrid,' Fillmore muttered after a few moments of silence, 'if it wasn't Harris then who's sent you the rose? I mean it's not a secret admirer, is it?'

I smiled to myself, knowing that Fillmore couldn't possibly jealous. He was my friend, and my partner, but he just didn't think of me _that_ way. There had been a hint of something in his voice, but I decided it had been caution, in case I threw another tantrum like yesterday.  
'I don't know Fillmore, but I doubt it. It might be worth keeping an eye on Harris, though. It was three years ago that he picked on me, perhaps he's changed.'  
'Folsom seems to think he's nothing but trouble.'  
'Folsom thinks that about everyone.'

We walked in silence for a few more minutes, both lost in our own thoughts. 'Is there anything else you haven't told me?' Fillmore asked, and I winced at the hurt in his voice. 'Ingrid, I thought we were best friends. I can't believe you didn't tell me about this.'  
'It's three years past, Fillmore. I don't know what happened to you all that time ago and I don't ask. I didn't think it would have relevance.'  
'It explains why you are like you.'  
'What's that supposed to mean?'  
'As in why you're so tough.'

Fillmore seemed to realize he was treading on thin ice when he saw my face. 'What I mean is that – uh –that – you're just not a very girly girl. Not like Tehama.'  
'Tehama likes the color pink, but she's not really a girly girl, Fillmore.'  
'You know what I mean.'

He seemed almost overwhelmed with relief when we finally reached the school's main entrance. There were a few kids about, catching up on reading or eating a rushed breakfast, but there was still some time before lessons started. Not that it mattered to me: I had all day. Both the doctor and Principal Folsom had made it quite clear that there was to be no formal lessons or fighting crime until Monday at the earliest.

Fillmore unlocked the door to the office and scuffed a piece of paper with his foot. Picking it up he scanned the text and scowled, before handing it wordlessly to me. I barely had to glance at the text before the message was burned into my mind.

"_I know everything. The game has begun. Are you ready Ms Third?"_

'Mean anything to you?'  
'No, but this wasn't cut out of a newspaper or magazine, at least I don't think so. The message was word-processed and then the letters were cut out and stuck down on another bit of paper.' My voice squeaked unnaturally and I cleared my throat, carefully composing my features so that Fillmore wouldn't see the confusion I felt.

'Tehama could probably verify that,' Fillmore decided as he grabbed an evidence bag and slipped the note inside. He stared at it again for a minute. 'Ingrid, I'm worried about you. You've lost your parents, and someone is after you, but you're hardly even reacting.'

I sighed, trying to find the words to explain what I felt. 'I don't believe it's happening. I keep remembering the – the accident, and the memory is right there. It's a graphic image but it just doesn't seem real. It's like my life is carrying on, but I'm not a part of it anymore. I can't relate to myself. Normally Harris would concern me, but now this all feels like it's happening to someone else.'

I slumped into the chair behind my desk, staring unseeingly at the obsessively tidy surface. Pencils all sharpened to the same length, paper clips lined up neatly, eraser clean of all graphite marks. It was a psychologist's dream. If they ever saw how I lived I'd be locked away for being too tidy. Fillmore put the purple mug in front of me. It had three marshmallows in it and they were rapidly soaking up the hot chocolate. 'Ingrid, I know it's hard. I mean, I don't know but – look, I'm here all right?'  
'I know, thanks.'

He put a hand over mine. It was a fleeting gesture but it brought a lot of comfort, and an odd, hot feeling that I couldn't identify. For a moment there was just peace and companionship until Vallejo burst in and we both jumped guiltily.

'Oh –ah sorry.' The Junior Commissioner smirked. 'Was I interrupting something?'  
'No, Vallejo,' Fillmore replied, his tone terse and slightly angry. I hid a smile behind the mug and gulped down the steaming hot chocolate before picking up a spoon to eat the sticky, chocolaty mess of the marshmallows.

'Are you going to chain me to my chair again?' I asked the Junior Commissioner.  
'There's no point. It didn't stop you yesterday. Just promise me you'll take it easy.' The bell rang and Vallejo followed Fillmore out of the door.  
'Scouts honor!' I shouted after them, smiling as the two of them laughed and went their separate ways, leaving me alone.

I'd done all the homework I could face last night, and only one subject remained. History. I hated history, not because I found it difficult, simply because it bored me. I had a short essay to write and it would only become more terrible the longer I left it.

I had been typing intermittently for about forty-five minutes when the phone at my desk rang. I considered letting the answering machine get it, but then it was someone calling during class time. It could be my sister.

'Hello?'  
'Good to hear your voice, Ms Third.' The words were husky and well disguised. Possibly someone had gum in their mouth, or cloth over the mouthpiece of the phone. It sounded male but that didn't necessarily mean it was.  
I hit the record button on the answering machine and tried to keep the voice talking.  
'Who is this?'

There was a laugh that would have been pleasant if it wasn't for the chilling carelessness of it. 'Like I would tell you that, Ms Third. I've been watching you. Your life has been somewhat tumultuous lately. I find your distress touching. Did you like the rose?'  
'It was a nice thought.'  
'I thought you would appreciate it, that and the little note. Watch out, Ms Third. I know everything about you, and I'll only wait so long.'

The line disconnected and I sat frozen for a second before replacing the receiver and stopping the tape. I stared straight ahead, trying to think above the clamor of fear. There had been noises in the background. Distant sounds and a nearby, soft creak of metal.

My head spun and the air in the office suddenly seemed far too close. I felt sick and my head began to pound as my heartbeat accelerated and allowed the panic to take over. I practically ran out of the room and turned left. I was heading for the girls' bathroom, but my vision became blurred and I slumped against the cool metal of the lockers.

A hand on my shoulder made me jump and I gave a gasp as someone said, 'Are you all right?'

It was Tony Monaco. Tony was, by consensus, the "cool" guy of the school. His hair was spiked and dyed black with blue tips. He wore motorbike leathers, even though he had no bike. All the cheerleaders secretly fancied him, as did most of the girls in school, and even I had to admit he wasn't bad looking.

'I'm fine,' I groaned, before straightening myself up and taking a deep breath. 'Panicked over a test.' I lied smoothly.  
'I know what you mean.' He grinned and steadied me. 'Hey, you're with the Safety Patrol, aren't you?'  
'Yeah, I'm Ingrid Third.'  
'Smartest girl in school, and you're panicking about a test?' Tony grinned cheerfully and opened his locker.  
'Hey, everyone panics sometimes.'  
'Yeah, I suppose. I'm fifth on the grade tables.' He noticed me raise my eyebrows in surprise, and carried on. 'I keep it to myself, if that kind of news gets about it'll kind of wreck my image.'

I laughed slightly, feeling the panic I had suffered in the office ebb away as Tony chattered on about how he was always fighting with Jeffery Mitchell for fourth place in the grade listings. His cheerful grin suddenly fell away and he frowned, before turning his cool grey eyes to my face. 'Thing is, both Jeff and I found a rose at our houses on Monday night and this morning we received identical letters.'  
'Telling you that the game had begun and asking if you were ready?'  
'Yeah, you got one too?'  
I nodded. 'It looks like someone's got some plans for the brightest of us.' I bit my lip and took the piece of paper he gave me, scanning the identical lettering. 'They don't use our first names, I wonder why?'  
'I dunno, but I thought I should let the Safety Patrol know. If it was just at school I wouldn't be so fussed, but they know where we live!'  
'Okay, thanks Tony. I'll let you know if I find anything.'  
'Thanks, oh and - ' He reached out to touch my arm gently, making me look up from the note, 'I heard about your parents, and I'm really sorry. My Dad was a soldier, and he was killed in conflict so I, I kind of know what it's like, but to lose them both must be terrible.'

I nodded and smiled at him, hoping to ease his sympathy a bit.  
'If you ever need help with homework or anything, or getting notes… I won't be as good as you, but – well – whatever.'  
'Thanks Tony, that means a lot.' My smile was stronger this time and he took his hand away, brushing his fingertips against my skin for a moment before turning and walking down the hall.

Normally the touch would have been over-familiar and out of place, but it had been nice to feel the touch of another person; gentle and comforting.

I turned to walk back to the office and promptly collided with someone's chest.  
'Fillmore!'

His hands shot out to catch me as I stumbled backwards slightly, surprised by his presence. One hand grabbed my forearm and the other, my waist. My T-shirt left a tiny gap above the top of my jeans, no wider than a finger, but the skin of his palm brushed against the gap, sending a strange jolt through me.

He drew his hands back as though he'd been burned and I felt a blush race across my face. He shifted backwards uncomfortably and cleared his throat, but his voice sounded slightly gruff when he spoke.  
'You found out who your secret admirer was then?'  
'What?'  
'Monaco?'  
'No, no Tony's just – he was –helping.' I ran a hand through my hair, then cursed silently at my nervous gesture. 'Um, he received a note and a rose too, and so did Jeffery Mitchell. They're the fifth and fourth most intelligent students at X. I need to do some research, but I'll bet whoever are second and third got a flower and one of these too.' I waved the note vaguely, and hoped that he couldn't hear my heart thundering in my chest.

'So it's not just you?'  
'No.'  
'Good.'  
We stood in awkward silence for a moment before I glanced at his watch, reading the time upside down with ease. 'You're going to be late.'  
Fillmore frowned in confusion, his mind obviously elsewhere. 'For what?'  
'English class. Can you get me a copy of the essay title?'  
'Yeah, sure. See you later, Ingrid.'

I watched him walk away in the same direction that Tony had gone. He shook his head to himself, as though something wasn't making sense to him, before disappearing around the corner. I looked down at the note in my hands and made my way back to the office, lost in thought. Anyone would have thought I was engrossed in the paper in my hands, but all I could think of was Fillmore, and how different his touch had been from Tony's. It was far more…electric.

'Stupid girl,' I muttered to myself as I slipped into the office and made my way to my desk. With a sigh I collapsed in the chair behind my desk and logged into the computer. Ruthlessly I pushed all peripheral thoughts from my mind. I forgot about Harris, and the enigma of Cornelius Fillmore. The image of my parents bodies was fixed in my mind's eye, but I forced myself to work around it. I needed a distraction from my life, and now I had a case to solve.

The game was on.

**End of Chapter Three**


	4. Friendship

**Shattered**

By: Abellen

**Chapter Four: Friendship**

I glanced up from the computer when the office door opened and Anza and Tehama walked in, talking animatedly. I checked the clock and raised my eyebrow in surprise. I'd been so engrossed in my own brainstorming session that I hadn't notice the morning slip away. It was lunch time, and while I'd compiled a list of likely victims I was no closer to finding a suspect.

'I swear, he wasn't paying any attention during English. Something's bothering him,' Karen said as she put her lunch box down on her desk.

'He's worried about Ingrid,' Anza reasoned.

'Who is?' I smiled when the pair of them jumped. Neither of them had noticed my presence, and now they shifted uncomfortably.

'Fillmore,' Anza admitted. 'I mean, I thought it was bad when he didn't know where you were, but now it seems worse.'

I frowned in disbelief, and felt a dark zephyr of worry insinuate itself into my mind. 'Maybe it's something going on at home. Has he said anything? He can't be that worried about me.'

'I don't know, Ingrid. You're number one on my worry list right now,' Tehama pointed out, grabbing a sandwich and taking a healthy sized bite.

'She's right. We're your friends, Ingrid, but Fillmore's your partner and, well, you're close.'

I narrowed my eyes at Anza's last statement. 'Fillmore's a good friend, he's just concerned. I'll ask him later, and see if he's okay. Everyone's been paying attention to me… Maybe we missed something.'

'Ingrid, I'll bet you five dollars the only thing on Fillmore's mind is you,' Anza responded, a tiny, secretive smile twisting on his lip, before it vanished. 'You've been through a lot, Ingrid. First your parents, then there's the Harris thing, and now you're getting threatening note.'

'And phone calls,' I mumbled.

'Phone calls?' Fillmore asked as he and Danny entered the office.

His eyebrows had drawn instantly into a frown and I could hear Anza and Tehama busying themselves nearby. Danny hurried away muttering something about paperwork, desperate to get out of the way of a potential verbal cross-fire.

I heaved a sigh, more of regret than annoyance. I should have told him before he went to English class, but the note Tony had given me had pushed the thought from my head. I rubbed a hand across my forehead, wincing when it caught on one of the neat stitches.

'There was just one, not long after you left for class this morning. I got it on tape.' I retrieved the tiny cassette from the answering machine, and put it in an evidence bag. 'The voice was heavily disguised, but I think it was male. I'll try and enhance it in the A/V room. It's a long shot, but maybe I can recognize the voice.'

'Why didn't you tell me that when I saw you with Monaco?' Fillmore demanded, his voice angry.

'Monaco, Tony Monaco?' Tehama interrupted, her eyes wide. 'You were talking to Tony Monaco?'

'Yes?' I narrowed my eyes as Tehama squealed in delight.

'Oh, he has such a lovely voice, and his eyes are gorgeous!'

'I - I didn't notice.'

Tehama looked at me as though I had to be blind and deaf not to notice Tony's assets. 'Why were you talking to him?'

'I just bumped into him, that's all. Anyway, I would have mentioned it, Fillmore, but I forgot. Tony had just given me the note linking him and Jeff Mitchell into the case,' I hurried on, successfully quelling any questions Tehama had. 'I'm going to go and see if I can make anything of the tape.'

I made a break for it, clutching the small cassette in my right hand. If I stayed any longer I'd have to tell them about my panic attack, which didn't appeal, especially when Fillmore was there watching my every move like a hawk. It was sweet - no - lovely that he was worried about me, but I just wanted to get my life back on track, and leave as much of this behind me as I could.

A sob caught in my throat, taking me by surprise. I stopped dead in the corridor and tried to get a grip. The social services worker had talked to Ariella and I in great depth about the grieving process. She said the first stage, denial, was more of a constant until acceptance was reached.

'_It's normal to feel disbelief at first, but it's important not to bottle up the tears. They might take you by surprise, and it might seem like they'll never stop, but it's important to cry.'_

I shook my head and kept walking, ignoring the growing ache in my chest and the hollow in the pit of my stomach. There was a time and a place for tears, and this was neither.

The A/V lab was wonderfully quiet. There were no sounds but the gentle hum of machinery and I quickly fed the audio data from the tape into an enhancement program on the computer. After removing the static I separated the sounds into different streams, isolating the voice from the other components. Even after filtering it through various clean ups I couldn't recognize the speaker. It was male, but that was it.

I was just about to turn my attention to the background sounds when something wet fell on my arm. I looked down in surprise at the tiny spherical droplet reflecting the computer screen in its liquid surface. Another splashed down to join it and I raised my hand to my cheek. The skin was wet with tears, and my eyes stung painfully. A shiver ran across my skin and my breath choked in my throat as the despair flooded through me. For a brief second I was disconnected from the world, totally lost within my own sorrow. No light or sound could penetrate, and I felt like curling up and letting the world carry on without me.

A sharp bite of pain in the palm of my hand brought me back to reality. Four crescent shape cuts bled slightly where my nails had dug into the skin of my hand. The red fluid bloomed into a droplet which I smeared with my fingertips absently before cuffing the tears away and pushing all the feeling below the surface once again. I promised myself that later I would cry properly, but right now I needed to solve this case. If nothing else it would stop Fillmore from worrying.

* * *

There was no clock in the A/V room, but when I emerged the corridor was empty. I walked passed closed classroom doors and caught brief glimpses of teachers talking and gesticulating enthusiastically, or pointing something out on the board. I recalled my timetable and realized that it was time for math, one of my favorite subjects. Mr. Hartley was always interested to check over the more complex equations I'd done, and was content to let me push the boundaries of my knowledge while the rest of the class got to grips with the curriculum.

The office door was unlocked and I arched an eyebrow in surprise. If there was no one inside we always locked the door, but everyone should be in lessons. I opened the door carefully, ready to slam it hard in the face of any threat, but all I saw was Fillmore reading through a sheet of paper with a frown on his face.

'Another note?' I asked, hoping that it was something more mundane.

'Math. Did you find anything from the tape?' Fillmore looked up and his dark eyes narrowing slightly behind his glasses as he scanned my face, no doubt noticing the last remnants of tear blotches on my pale skin.

'No, not really. The person was standing near lockers, or something else with metal doors when the call was made. It was a male, but that's all I know. Why are you sitting at my desk?'

'Your chair's more comfortable than mine.'

I looked over at his battered chair. One of it's wheels had stopped turning years ago, and the seat cover was threadbare and tired.

'Okay, can I ask why you're not in Math?'

'Mr. Hartley sent me back here to keep an eye on you. He said if I got stuck you could use the mentoring experience.'

I snorted in disbelief, and was relieved to see Fillmore smile in response. 'You don't need help with Math.'

'Maybe not, but Tony Monaco called by earlier along with Jeffrey.'

'Numbers five and four. What for?'

'They got threatening phone calls. They couldn't record them, but they did their best to transcribe them for use, including phonetic alphabet symbols, which I can't decipher very well.'

He handed the paper to me, and I scanned through it, shaking my head. 'Nothing very definitive. The dialect is local.'

'Female speaker though. I checked Debbie Li and Vanessa Williams,' he tapped the list in front of him. 'Number three and your closest competitor for the top spot. They have also received a note, flower and phone call. They said their speaker was male.'

'So there are at least two people involved,' I concluded. 'Numbers six and seven perhaps?'

'What would their motive be?' Fillmore asked, checking the list I had compiled and highlighting their names.

'The ten students with the highest grades at X get access to a scholarship fund. Number one gets the highest payment for high school and university, and it goes down throughout the ten. Maybe they want more money?'

'Wouldn't it be more likely that it's numbers eleven and twelve, since they get nothing?'

'Possibly.'

I let the phonetically transcribed note fall back to the desk and perched on the edge, swinging one foot absent-mindedly. There was a sheet of paper with a complex Math algorithm scribbled over it. It wasn't bad, but the writer had dropped a variable or two. I scribbled in the correction and then frowned in confusion.

'This isn't yours, is it?'

Fillmore looked at it, and frowned. 'Ingrid, why would anyone in this school want to work on the paramagnetic algorithm theory, except you?'

'Oh, is that what it is?' I frowned at the scribbles wondering, as I had done many times in my life, how I could make sense on a mathematical level, but couldn't always apply what I saw seeing to reality.

'Monaco brought it in. Apparently it's something extra-curricular, and he got confused. He wanted your help,' Fillmore mumbled, his voice suspicious and he scrawled his way through some trigonometry.

'You sound like you don't believe it.'

'I believe that someone might want your help, but I don't believe Monaco. He's just trying to get your attention.'

'Why?'

'Maybe he likes you.'

'I've only met him for five minutes.'

'He might be quick to form good opinions.' Fillmore's face was perfectly neutral, but he was obviously struggling to keep the distaste for Tony from his voice.

'Fillmore, are you all right?' He carried on scribbling until I snatched the pencil out of his hand. 'Take a break from tangents, Fillmore.'

'Yes, Ingrid. I'm fine.' He held his hand out for his pencil, and only looked up when I didn't return it. 'What?'

'Are you sure you're okay? Anza and Tehama said you were distracted in English, and barely paid any attention. I just want to make sure that there's nothing going on.'

'Like what?'

'I don't know, like maybe your parents are fighting, or your grades are falling or you've got a crush on a girl and are dying from a broken heart or something.'

Fillmore snorted and stood up, walking around the desk until he stood in front of me. 'Ingrid, I promise you that I'm fine. I'm just worried about you.'

'You're sure?

'Yes. Are you all right?'

I bit my lip, knowing that the evidence of my tears spoke for me. 'I'll live.' I picked up another scrap of paper and stared at it unseeingly. Fillmore's hand around my wrist forced me to look up into his eyes.

'You look tired, Ingrid, and you've been crying.'

He loosened his grasp on my wrist and instead rubbed the pad of his thumb lightly against my palm. His touch was both hypnotic and thrilling and I barely heard his next words. 'Why don't you go home and have some time to yourself, maybe it'll help?'

I ducked my head, not wanting to do as I was told. I felt better here, with Fillmore. At school I was surrounded in life. My house was more of a hollow shell, a corpse of a family home. Here there were people, and friends, and things to keep me busy, but at home I'd just wander around aimlessly.

'Come on, Ingrid. Just rest, even if it's just for today. Please?'

I don't think Fillmore ever realizes the devastating force of his dark puppy-dog eyes, but I was subjected to that emotion-filled gaze. Eyes were the windows to the soul, and Fillmore had a lot of soul to spare.

'Fine, but I'll be back tomorrow morning,' I warned him, not wanting to give in totally.

'I know. I can't walk you home though, I've got class.'

'Fillmore, you don't have to walk me home every night. I think I'm safe, and it's a long way for you to go.' I grabbed my bag and flung it over my shoulder before grabbing the list of victims and potential suspects, as well as the other documents relating to the case.

Fillmore sighed and shook his head, but didn't stop me picking up more work to do at home. I was on my way out of the door when he called my name. 'Can I walk you home because I want to? I mean, as a friend?'

I watched him in silence for a second. He was standing by his desk, arms crossed defensively, but he looked ever-so slightly vulnerable. 'Of course, Fillmore. I'd like that. Tomorrow?'

'Okay, tomorrow. See you later, Ingrid.'

'Bye.'

I lingered for just a second longer, before walking out of the door and making my way along the empty corridors of X. A tiny smile tugged at my lips and I bounced down the steps. Fillmore was walking me home because he wanted to. That was more than just partners, that was proper friendship.

**End of Chapter Four**


	5. Feelings

**Shattered**

By: Abellen

A/N: **WARNING** this chapter contains mention of sexual assault. There will be no graphic sex or violence, but anything I feel is edging towards a more adult nature I will warn you of. Oh, and a quick warning of very mild language.

We're back to Fillmore's POV, and represents a flashback of sorts.

**Chapter Five: Feelings**

If I didn't concentrate in my last lesson of the day then Ms. Williams, the History teacher, didn't bother to drag my attention back to the topic at hand. My mind was a whirlwind of thought, and none of it had anything to do with the American civil war. The thing throwing me into such turmoil was a person, and it wasn't just my mind she was having an affect on.

I sighed and tried to focus on my desk, but the issues kept coming back to me. I had been surprised at the surge of raw jealousy I had felt when I'd seen Monaco touching Ingrid's arm, but that shock dimmed in comparison to what I felt when I'd stopped her from falling.

The touch had been entirely accidental. She'd been about to fall, and I grabbed her. One hand had landed on the relatively safe territory of her forearm, the other had grabbed her waist. I smiled faintly at the memory of soft warmth beneath my palm. It had lasted no longer than a second but it had been enough to linger on my mind all day. The touch had been electric, and that alone had been enough to confuse the hell out of me. Some when I'd stopped seeing Ingrid as a platonic partner, and started to realise how good she looked.

The school bell rang and I shook my head to myself. One thing was for sure, I had the worst timing. Why now, when Ingrid's life was in such a mess? I sighed as I packed my books away and began to make my way back to the office. Of course, it hadn't been like hitting a switch. I hadn't gone home on Friday thinking of Ingrid as my partner and turned up on Monday thinking she was, well, more than that. It must've been happening gradually, so I barely noticed it.

I tried to think back and put my finger on the turning point, but nothing came to mind. All I could think of was that, after grabbing her by the lockers, I'd spent most of the day trying to find excuses to be near her. 'Sad, Fillmore,' I muttered to myself. 'Real sad.'

I just had to pull myself together, and get a grip. I couldn't do anything about this, not now, and maybe not ever. Ingrid needed a friend, but she didn't need the complications of more than that, and neither did I. The last thought arrived in my mind without much conviction as I opened the office door.

'Do you know where Ingrid is?' Vallejo demanded before I'd even set foot over the threshold.

'She went home. She needed some time to herself.' I noticed the sweat of Vallejo's brow and frowned. 'Why, what's going on?'

'I just got a call through from Folsom's office. Something about a social worker. I guess it doesn't matter. Folsom can handle it. She just wanted Ingrid's input, that's all.'

'You got all worked up about that?'

'I'm easily stressed,' the Junior Commissioner replied. 'I've got a meeting with Folsom afterwards anyway. I want to go over a couple of Safety Patrol policies with her. I'd rather she was in a good mood.'

'What policies?'

'Well, like the fact that the walkie talkies aren't meant to leave school property, but we all take them home with us anyway, and the policy on romantic involvement.'

Vallejo was watching me very carefully, perhaps looking for some kind of reaction. I didn't give him the satisfaction of letting anything show.

'Why are you talking to her about that?' I was unpacking my bag, but looked up just in time to see Vallejo roll his eyes.

'Gee, I wonder! There's enough tension between Anza and Tehama to drive anyone crazy, and something tells me that there's been a shift in other areas of the staff too.'

'Like what?' I was glaring now, and I felt a small amount of satisfaction as he squirmed, before giving up.

'Nothing, Fillmore. I must've imagined it. Still it can't hurt to get the thing revoked.'

'Well, good luck, man. I'm going to see if I can get any more information from the note for Ingrid, then call it a day.'

'Okay, Fillmore. Don't stay too late. You're too young to be married to the job, especially a voluntary job.'

'I'm only a month younger than you!'

Vallejo only gave a snort in response before he departed, leaving me in peace.

With barely a thought I sat in Ingrid's chair and opened a nearby evidence drawer. I pulled out the note, still locked in its polythene bag prison. I examined the paper carefully, swiveling myself in the chair slightly as I thought. 'Why now? Why are you picking on Ingrid now?' I mumbled, shaking my head bitterly. Humanity never ceased to disappoint me. Almost all of the X middle school populace were young teenagers. It might be pushing a bit to call them children, but they were far from adults. Sometimes though, the crimes they committed were the crimes that would put a grown up behind bars. There was fraud, abuse and theft. It made me think that some people were born bad. Some of them turned their lives around, like me, but most just sank deeper into their ways and retaliated at those around them.

My thoughts turned, with dread, to Harris. So far there had been nothing to indicate that he was a suspect in the current case, but like a hungry dog the worry gnawed at my mind. He'd hurt Ingrid once, badly enough to make her clam up about it. Had he mended his ways, or had he become more vindictive since that time? What if Ingrid was still his target, and what if this time the abuse was more than just a punch. What if it was sexual, or worse, fatal?

I cringed at the thought and my mind slipped back to a meeting that the male members of the Safety Patrol had sat through. Folsom had invited us into her office about a year ago, and requested that Ingrid and Karen wait outside until afterwards. I could remember it so clearly because it had sent chills up my spine, and it still did.

* * *

Principal Folsom finished scribbling her hasty signature on some forms as we trooped into her office, all of us uncertain why we were there. Danny was fidgeting nervously and Vallejo was ringing his hands. Anza wasn't showing any outwards signs of concern, but his jaw was clenched as he took a seat and waited for the Principal to begin. 

'Boys, I'm glad you could make it. I won't keep you long.' She rose from her desk and walked over to the window, surveying her domain as she continued to speak, 'You're growing up now, and growing up fast. I've asked for your presence because you're of a certain age -' she faltered and cleared her throats, before turning to us and biting her lip, suddenly looking more like a concerned parent than a figure of authority. 'I should have just put this in a memo,' she muttered, running a hand through her hair.

She took a deep breath and ploughed on, as though it would be easier to say if she hurried through it. 'There's a time when adult crimes can happen to children. When children themselves commit adult crimes. Petty theft and fraud can become darker and more violent. As the Safety Patrol you are the natural target for revenge. I know you work well as a team, and watch each out for each other, but I wanted to re-enforce that concept. I particularly want you to watch Miss Third and Miss Tehama.'

'Why?' The words had come from my lips before I had thought it through, and to my alarm I thought I saw tears well up in the Principal's eyes. She blinked twice and they faded away, before she turned to look out of the window once more.

The air in the room thickened noticeably and I heard Anza grind his teeth next to me. Vallejo had gone totally still, as had Danny. They were watching the Principal with their mouths slightly open, almost as though they feared what she would say. 'I ask Fillmore, because almost all of the criminals you are dealing with are male, and while they may retaliate to you with a punch or a kick, their actions towards the girls may be of a more sexual nature.'

'Rape?' Anza's voice grated over the word, as though it was forced from his throat. His face was pale and his jaw clenched so tight I was amazed he didn't break his teeth.

'Yes, in the worst case. It will probably never happen. I certainly hope that no student of mine would have to suffer such abuse, but it is not unheard of. I wanted to warn you.' The Principal's eyes found mine and she swallowed, reading the horror I could tell was written all over my face. 'That is all, please send the girls in after you.'

'You're going to tell them?' Vallejo croaked in disbelief. 'They'll quit! They'll never come to school again!'

'I have to. Good day, boys.'

* * *

I shivered in the silent office remembering how sickened and fearful we had all been. I hadn't let Ingrid out of my sight for a month. Vallejo had been reluctant to let them out of the office at all, and Anza had been vicious, almost violent to anyone who looked at Tehama in a mildly sexual way. It hadn't been until Danny had crept up on Tehama in the office and she'd thrown him onto the floor that we found out our girls could take care of themselves. The Principal had offered them self-defense classes from the day of the meeting onwards, and at Ingrid's insistence had made it open to all. 

I pursed my lips and tried to repress the shudders that raced over my skin. The Principal's words had given me nightmares. I'd dreamt that Ingrid had come to me, bleeding and broken, and I was too late to help. I dreamt that she'd withdrawn from me and faded from sight. It had been my Dad who'd reassured me then, and gradually the nightmares had faded away, but the thought still lingered in the back of my mind, whispering to me.

I stood up suddenly, full of restless energy. I had to know what he had done to her. I had to reassure myself that my nightmares from a year ago couldn't become a reality because of Harris. I choked as another thought filled my head. All I knew was that he had been physically violent to her. What if it was worse than that? No, if he had raped Ingrid he would never have gone to school again. He'd end up in juvenile prison - unless Ingrid had kept it quiet.

I left the desk and opened the door to Vallejo's office. As much as I loathed breaching his trust I knew I had to find out about Ingrid. I'd rifled through his files before, in times of desperate need. For a moment I hesitated, thinking that I should just get Ingrid to tell me the truth, before I remembered her current situation. She had too much on her mind in the present to go dredging up the past. I'd set my mind at rest the easy way.

I skimmed through the files with dexterous ease, the paper ruffling beneath my fingertips as I scanned the pages, looking for the right information. What I found was a neatly typed page. Three small paragraphs detailed Harris' past, and his victims. Most were summed up in a single sentence. They were "verbally harassed". When I read the section about Ingrid I felt the blood drain from my face. The author of the report had taken quotes from her medical notes. It was stated that there was extensive bruising to her torso. Two ribs had been badly broken, and neighboring bones fractured. A psychologist's note went on to say that Harris' behavior stemmed from a history of domestic violence between his parents. It detailed that he restricted evidence of physical violence on his victim to the torso so that it was easier to hide.

One final sentence rounded off the report and made nausea roll greasily in my stomach:

"Unless the subject, Michael Harris, is reformed his violence will continue into a downward spiral and his assaults on women will only worsen."

X was his last chance. Had he been reformed, or was this going to be the place where he committed the last in a string of worsening crimes? Would it be here, within the school walls that he turned from a bully into a criminal, and the people who were trying to help him finally gave up?

I put the file back and went back into the outer office. I rubbed a hand across my jaw, trying to make up my mind. The investigation of Vallejo's files hadn't reassured me as much as I had hoped. All I knew was that only Ingrid could really tell me the whole story, and that wasn't likely. What could I do for her except keep an eye on her? If I was too protective she'd notice and demand to know the reason, but even now a flock of anxieties was making me feel ill. "What ifs" crowded in my head until I knew that I wouldn't be able to concentrate on the note, or anything to do with case.

I grabbed my bag from the desk and stalked out of the office, locking the door behind me. My strides ate up the corridors of X and I shoved headphones in my ears, trying to drown out my dark thoughts. I hated the fact that I couldn't pretend the world was innocent anymore. I thought how strange it was that only a year ago I hadn't thought much beyond the next test and next minor case. Now... I swallowed hard and shook my head. I wouldn't sleep well tonight, but I was resolved to be there for Ingrid. Harris wouldn't touch her, I'd make sure of that.

Tomorrow I'd do some investigating, and see just how Harris was settling in, and if anything seemed even slightly off I'd tell Folsom. Her concerns about the girls weren't unfounded, and I knew she'd take me seriously. I sighed, wishing I could just lie and get him kicked out of the school, and out of Ingrid's life, but I needed proof.

The sidewalk slipped past beneath me as my feet guided my unerringly towards home and I stepped inside the front door with a sigh. My mom looked up from her work and smiled at me. The smile faded when I didn't give a similar response and she set her pen aside.

'Cornelius, are you okay?' She stood up and walked towards me and I had to smile slightly. She was a tall woman, but I was catching up fast. Her eyes were already nearly level with mine. She seemed to realize it too and motioned towards the sofa. 'You look almost sick; are you coming down with something?'

'No, I'm fine.'

She pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow in disbelief. 'Is it about Ingrid?'

I looked up sharply before lowering my head wordlessly. My mom had her intuition down to an art, and I knew she would smell an untruth a mile off. It was Dad I talked to about the Patrol, about bullies and crime and the stupidity of people, but it was Mom I talked to when I was down. I knew most people didn't have parents as good as mine, or had to share them with siblings, or just couldn't talk to them about anything important. I thought of Ingrid without any parents at all, and knew I was luckier than most.

I took a deep breath and began to speak. 'She's being so brave, and I'm so worried for her, Mom.'

'How's she holding up?'

'Amazingly. Losing you or Dad would be enough to ruin my life, but she's still doing her homework, and smiling sometimes,' I trailed off, and leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees and clasping my hands together. 'It's not just her parents though. This guy has moved into school. It's his last chance to be a reasonable person, but he's a bully, and he did more than just pick on her. He beat her up, put her in hospital, and I don't know what else.'

My mother reached out and grabbed my hand, squeezing it reassuringly as my concern made my voice wobble. 'And that's not all of it!' I carried on. 'Some - some bastard has decided to pick now to start making her life hell! She's getting scary notes and phone calls, just because she's the brightest kid in school!'

'Is she the only one?' my Mom asked quietly, ignoring my bad language.

'No, there are four others so far.'

She nodded silently, digesting what I had told her, before smiling at me. 'Fillmore, you're good friends with her, and I know you'll do everything in your power to keep her safe, and keep her life on track. You're doing all you can, and I know that doesn't stop you worrying.' She gave me a sly look, and smile curved on her lips. 'You like her, don't you?'

I felt a blush warm my cheeks and a grin touch my lips as I remembered the shock of touching Ingrid earlier that day. My mother's laughter was musical as she caught sight of the smile on my lips, but she soon fell serious again. 'Fillmore, Ingrid is a wonderful girl, and I really do approve, but now isn't a good time to start something like this.'

'I know, I know,' I replied, sitting back with a sigh. 'I just don't know what to do, Mom. I know that she's hurting and scared but she's hiding it so well.'

'Then make it so she doesn't have to hide it. All relationships are based on trust, Cornelius. She must trust you some, but make it so that she can tell you anything, and be sure you trust her equally. As for what's going on at the moment, at school, and at her home, all I can suggest is to be there when she needs you. That's what your father did for me.'

I looked up and smiled. I'd heard the story of how my parents fell in love before, but I'd not realized the parallels between my mother's and Ingrid's situation. 'Thanks, Mom.'

'You're welcome. Now do your homework before dinner.'

I grabbed my books from my bag and settled at the table, still on-edge, but calmer after talking to my mom. There was only so much I could do, and I was doing my best. I'd be there for Ingrid, in whatever way I could be, for as long as she wanted me. Maybe one day it would be more than just friendship, but for now friendship was enough.

**End of Chapter Five**

A/N: Well, it's not a particularly action-packed chapter, but it's going to be quite a long fic, and some chapters will be more character development-ish (More I/F romance ;)) and some will be more plot based. I hope you all enjoy it, and thank you for your reviews. They are fantastic, and really encouraging!

See you Sunday!

Oh and I'm not sure about Fillmore and Vallejo's relative ages, so the "one month younger" thing is just made up.


	6. Findings

A/N: Lines just indicate the passage of time in this chapter, not a flashback or anything

**Shattered**

By: Abellen

**Chapter Six: Findings**

I rolled over in bed, still caught halfway between sleep and wakefulness. A dream swam in front of my eyes, tattered and unclear. It was already fading away with the dim morning light. I opened my eyes and tried to remember it, but all I could think of was the soft, warm feeling of a girl's lips against my own, and a pair of bright green eyes, smiling up at me. I groaned and glanced at the clock on my bedside table. I hadn't got to sleep until early morning, and my eyes still felt gritty and tired.

With a sigh I rolled out of bed and stumbled towards the bathroom. I took my glasses off and left my pajama bottoms on the floor before I stepped under the spray of the shower. Washing my hair wasn't an issue since my scalp was shaved clean, but the warm water woke me up and scattered the last shreds of sleep away. It was only a matter of minutes before I was clean, dry and dressed. I brushed my teeth and eyed up my reflection, grimacing slightly. Ingrid's pale skin showed up every sleep deprived shadow, but the color of my own did me some favors. Unfortunately there were still traces of shadows under my eyes and I knew that they wouldn't escape my partner's notice.

I toyed with the idea of walking her to school, as well as back to her house, but decided against it. I could meet her halfway. At least, I could if I hurried. I rushed downstairs and scooped my homework into my bag. My dad was sitting at the kitchen table, slurping coffee as though it were the elixir of life. His eyes followed me around as I got my stuff together.

'Don't forget breakfast, Cornelius,' he reminded me in his stern, gentle voice. 'Your brain needs food, you know?'

I grabbed an apple out of the bowl as Mom handed me a steaming hot croissant.

'Take care, Cornelius,' she shouted after me. 'Have a good day!'

With a hasty goodbye I aimed for the door, and smiled as my Dad's voice reached my ears.

'He gets his dedication from you, Marie.'

'And his good looks from you, dear.'

The door closed behind me and I glanced at my watch. With any luck Ingrid was running a few minutes late. The wind was gentle, but bitterly cold and I wished I'd worn more than a t-shirt as I chewed on the croissant. The first dead leaves of fall rattled along the sidewalk and crunched beneath my hurrying feet. Rounding the corner a few streets away from school I smiled at what I saw. Ingrid was leaning against the slim, metal pole of a stop sign, rummaging in her bag for something. Her hair swung against her jaw before she pulled some gloves from her bag and slipped them onto her slim hands.

She caught sight of me out of the corner of her eye and smiled as I approached. 'Bad night?' she asked quietly, a small frown wrinkling her forehead.

'I just couldn't sleep. It happens sometimes.' I smiled, hoping that she wouldn't ask too many questions. Instead she just pursed her lips and walked along by my side.

'I'm going to class today,' she said softly. 'I know the Principal and the doctor said I shouldn't but I can't sit around and do nothing.' She bit her lip, as though she was waiting for me to disagree with her decision.

'It'll keep you out of trouble, I suppose.' I grinned as she rolled her eyes and smiled in response.

'I think I'll interview some potential suspects today. If nothing else it'll eliminate them from the case,' she added.

'I'm going to check on Harris, and make sure he's settling in okay.'

She raised her eyes to mine, and I saw every emotion reflected in the green irises. There was fear and anger, and something else, something much softer. 'Why do I get the feeling you won't be giving him a friendly X middle school welcome?'

'I'm just going to keep an eye on him. Even if he's not mixed up in all this, wouldn't you feel safer if you knew for sure?'

'Of course, but he might not even know I go to this school. Why draw his attention to me?' She had wrapped her arms around her waist defensively and her shoulders were hunched. 'I know you'll do whatever you want, Fillmore, but please be careful. Just because he normally picks on girls doesn't mean he won't throw a punch at you if you push his buttons.'

'I didn't know you cared, Third.'

'I always care, Fillmore.'

She climbed the steps in front of me while I mulled over her words, and tried to keep my eyes off of her. There had been other girls who caught my eye in the past, but they'd never commanded my attention as powerfully as Ingrid did. They'd always turned out to be more interested in having a boyfriend, than the boyfriend himself.

'Hey, Ingrid!'

I looked up and narrowed my eyes when I saw Monaco waving from his locker. He was grinning inanely , oblivious to the purple haired girl at his shoulder, who was curling her top lip in a sneer of annoyance. She glared daggers at Ingrid, who paid her no attention whatsoever as she greeted Tony.

'I'll be at the office in a second.'

'Sure.' I rolled my eyes to myself and carried on down the corridor. Before I turned the corner I looked back and grimaced. Their heads were bent together over the math equation he had left behind the day before. He seemed to be paying more attention to Ingrid's face than the math problem and I stamped down hard on the jealousy I felt.

I carried on walking to the office, deciding that she could catch up when she was done. She hadn't seemed to affected by Tony's open admiration, but for someone so intelligent Ingrid could be pretty oblivious sometimes. Maybe she just didn't notice the fact that he was practically drooling over her.

I opened the office door and greeted Anza and Danny. Anza was sipping something out of a Starbuck's cup and Danny was slumped in his chair, eyes half closed.

'Fillmore, you look terrible.'

'Thanks, Danny. You don't look so hot either.'

'All night horror movie marathon. What's your excuse?'

'I just couldn't sleep.'

Anza tipped some of his brew into the mug and handed it to me. It was the color of tar and bitter as anything, but the coffee made me feel slightly more human.

'Hey, man. Can you do me a favor?'

'Sure, Fillmore. What is it?'

'I need to talk to Harris. Can you find out where he's going to be at lunch?'

Anza peered at my face, no doubt trying to work out my motives. 'Only if you let me be there when you talk to him.'

'Why?'

'Because Ingrid's my friend too, and you never know when an extra pair of fists could come in useful.' He waited until I agreed before starting a search on the computer to see if Harris had joined up to any lunch-time activities.

'Looks like he's going in heavily for sports. This lunch he'll be at football practice. Then there's boxing after school, followed by an evening of ice hockey.' Anza's lips twisted in distaste

'He's chosen sports that require brute force. Why do I get a bad feeling about this?'

Anza hit print and drummed his fingers against the desk. 'We shouldn't show this to Ingrid. It'll just freak her out.'

I gave a non-committal reply as I picked up the document and read it through.

I glanced up as Tehama and Ingrid walked through the door, chatting quietly. I folded up the paper and slipped it into my pocket. Anza was right, there was no need to put Ingrid more on edge than she already was. I finished the coffee and listened with half an ear to the girls' conversation, stiffening as I heard Tehama's word.

'I mean, he was checking you out. He couldn't take his eyes off your butt. I wish people paid that much attention to my behind!' Karen was saying, her voice becoming wistful as she finished her sentence.

'I think you imagined it, Karen. I don't think he could ever be more than friends with someone who is more intelligent than him.'

I smiled at Ingrid's tone. She didn't sound even remotely interested to know that Tony had been checking her out. My smile vanished when I saw the amused looks I was getting from Anza and Danny. I scowled at them and stared sightlessly at the file on the table as Karen continued.

'Maybe he's looking for a challenge. I can't seem him being satisfied with some vapid airhead, can you?'

'Maybe not, but if you think he's so good looking maybe you should ask him out.'

I looked up sharply as Anza made a strangled sound and stared fixedly at the computer screen. I risked a glance at the two girls. Tehama was regarding Anza with blatant bewilderment and Ingrid's lips were curved in a devilish grin. She caught my eye and gave me a tiny wink before she picked up her books and departed, shouting a calm, 'See you later!' as she walked away.

* * *

Anza met me on the playing field for lunch. He was munching on a sandwich thoughtfully as he approached, huddling in his coat to ward off the chill. I'd been waiting a few minutes and had already decided that Harris was trouble. Three years ago he might have just been a big bully, but now he was the broadest quarterback on the team. The coach had pointed him out as he pummeled a team mate into the ground with a sickening thud. With every tackle the coach grinned further. 'That's it, Harris! You've got the killer instinct! Use it!'

'Is that him?' Anza asked quietly as another player was forced to eat dirt. 'Man, Fillmore. If he hit Ingrid now he'd kill her.'

'He nearly did last time. I read the file. He broke her ribs.'

'Did Vallejo say you could read that?' When I didn't reply he finished his sandwich and sighed. 'Well, let's make this quick. What kind of thing are we going to ask him?'

'Where he was on Monday night, and Wednesday morning at around eleven.' I replied.

'Should we mention Ingrid?'

'Not unless we have to.'

The coach blew his whistle and beckoned Harris over. He pulled off his helmet and found the pair of us with his eyes. Sweat plastered his dark hair to his forehead, and although there was a smile on his lips his gaze was almost murderous.

He walked over, wiping his face with a towel as he did so. He stopped short of us and looked the pair of us over. 'What do you want?'

'Are you Mike Harris?' Anza asked, notebook and pencil in hand.

'Yeah, who's asking?'

'We're officers Anza and Fillmore,' he jerked his pencil in my direction. 'We'd just like to ask where you were between three and six o' clock on Monday afternoon?'

'Ice hockey match at the stadium.'

'And between ten and twelve on Wednesday morning?'

'In English and science classes. What's this about?'

'Can anyone verify your presence at the hockey match?'

'Of course!' His eyes narrowed cruelly and his voice became a growl. 'That bitch Third set you on me, didn't she? Her lies got me kicked out of every school I've been to for the past three years.' He shook his head and turned his back. 'You can tell her that she's not pinning any more crap on me.'

'So you're saying she broke her own ribs?' They were the first words I had said, and Harris stiffened before turning and jabbing his finger painfully into my chest.

'She asked for it with those big green eyes of hers.' He licked his lips and hissed again, 'She asked for it.' He spun on his heel and marched away, back to where the team were waiting for him. He slammed his helmet onto his head and huddled down, effectively blocking us from his world.

Anza shuddered and swallowed as he put his pencil away. 'That was...' he paused, groping for the right word, 'disturbing. Sounds like he was kind of obsessed with her.'

'Bullies can get like that. Do me a favor and check out his alibis. If anything doesn't add up, tell me, and we'll take this to Folsom.'

'Gotcha. I'll let you know. Do you think it was him?'

I took a deep breath as I thought about Anza's question. Every instinct in me was screaming that he was trouble, but... 'No, at least, I don't think he's the ringleader of it. Ingrid was right the first time. Harris doesn't have the style to pull off this kind of thing. He's up front and in your face. Whoever's threatening the top students is playing mind games.'

'Probably not a physically strong individual then,' Anza muttered.

'Well, that might be where Harris comes in. He could be the physical backup.'

'Reinforcement.' Anza ran a hand through his hair and glanced at his watch. 'Has Ingrid had anymore phone calls, or anything?'

'No, it's gone quiet, but I don't think we'll have to wait long. Ingrid thinks it might be linked to the scholarship deal for the ten most intelligent students.'

'So why won't you have long to wait?'

'When money is involved, people get impatient. We just have to wait and see what their next move is.' I rubbed a hand up the back of my neck and grunted softly. 'I hate waiting.'

We were just walking back into the school when our radios crackled to life. Vallejo's voice emanated from the speaker, tinny and distressed. 'Officer in trouble. Everyone to the hallway outside the science rooms, now!'

We broke into a sprint, barging our way through the milling students. Shouts of annoyance fell on deaf ears as I jumped over two students carrying a disaster of paint and clay between them.

'Vallejo, who is it?' Anza gasped into the radio, dodging his way around a cart wheeling cheerleader.

'Is Fillmore with you?' Vallejo asked warily. Anza looked at me and almost collided with someone carrying a guitar.

'Yeah, why?'

'We might need him to pick up the pieces. Harris has found Ingrid.'

Anza swore. 'That was quick.'

I sped up, ignoring a stitch in my side as I dodged around the corner. Just one last hallway... I skidded past Monaco and bit my lip, praying that Ingrid was all right. The science corridor was normally quiet at this time of day, but I didn't pay attention to the silent air as I came to a stop. There was no sign of Ingrid or Harris, and for a moment I thought Vallejo had pulled some stupid stunt. Maybe it was a drill or something.

Then I saw something on the floor, glistening red, and a sweat broke out across my skin. I leaned closer and reached into my pocket for a tissue. Dipping a corner in I noticed that the fluid was slightly thicker than water. Someone was bleeding, and I'd bet a year's lunch money that it was Ingrid. I tried not to panic as a hundred terrible scenarios raced through my head. Anza had skidded around the corner and was already on his radio describing the situation to Vallejo. Danny and Tehama were approaching from the other end of the corridor, and all three stopped to pay attention as I spoke.

'Karen, take this back to the office and see if it's blood. Danny and Anza, see if you can find Harris. He might have Ingrid with him.'

The radios crackled as Vallejo spoke, 'Do as he says, everyone. This is your operation, Fillmore.'

'Thanks, man.'

'What about you?' Karen asked as she took the tissue.

'I'll search this corridor. They might still be here somewhere.'

'Okay, good luck. Radio us as soon as you know anything,' Anza said, 'and check in every ten minutes. If you don't we'll assume Harris has got you too and come looking.'

I nodded in agreement and set off down the corridor, my eyes on the floor for clues. I crushed my panic and ignored my fear. This was business, and I couldn't let emotion get in the way. If Ingrid was here, with or without Harris, I'd find her.

Failure wasn't an option.

**End Of Chapter Six**

A/N: As always, thank you to all my reviewers, who make me feel special :) So what happened between Ingrid and Harris? Find out in the next chapter which will either be posted on Thursday, or Sunday.


	7. Fragile

**Shattered**

By: Abellen

Chapter Seven: Fragile

I kept my eyes fixed on the front of the classroom, an attentive expression fixed on my face. I had perfected this technique in kindergarten, and it had never failed me yet. Teachers thought I was paying attention, so they didn't ask me any questions. That left me free to sort out my own thoughts as the lesson went on around me.

The morning had dragged on for an age, and now the minute hand of the clock was finally creeping towards noon. As soon as the bell rang I would head towards the library. I opened my textbook and scanned my eyes down the short list of potential suspects. Within a second an image of the list was imprinted on my memory, and I began to think over each name with care.

Competition for the top ten positions on the grade lists was fierce. I held first with ease, but beneath me was a constant battle. The ranks were always shifting, and people didn't seem to stay in the same position for very long. They either clawed their way further up, or were overthrown by someone lowed down than they were.

Antony Flint was sixth, just behind Tony. If the motive was to gain more money he was the prime suspect for intimidating the top five, but I'd taken Fillmore's point to heart. People within the top ten could fight among themselves for more money without getting into trouble. It was more likely to be someone further down the scale. Tanja Rossi had been in eleventh place for several months, but hadn't been able to break past her nearest rival.

The teacher cleared her throat and shuffled some paper, bringing my attention back to the classroom. Miss Cross was a timid, shy looking woman. She was pleasant and sisterly to all her students, until one of them put a toe out of line. Then she was quietly furious. She whispered and hissed her disappointment. It was far worse than being shouted at, because you felt she'd really taken the misdeed to heart.

'Class, before you leave for lunch I wanted to let you know that there is a test day next week. On Thursday next week you will sit three exams, each an hour long. One will be English, and the other two are math and science. Now don't worry.' She raised her voice to be heard above the nervous chatter that filled the room. 'You needn't study for these tests. They are simply a measurement for the school to see if government targets are being met. Just do your best!'

The nervous chatter subsided, but I could feel the tension thickening the air. There was nothing like the mention of a large scale exam to throw the students into disarray. I sneaked a glance at Fillmore, but he looked calm. There was no reason for a test to bother him anyway, especially if the teachers were telling us not to study.

'All you have to do is turn up in the gym hall at nine in the morning. As a reward you'll be allowed to go home at midday.' She grinned and put the papers down as the bell rang. 'Remember, don't worry! This test result won't be entered into your permanent record.'

The classroom emptied swiftly and I saw Fillmore slip through the crowd, intent on his own business. Butterflies thrashed around my stomach when I realised he was hunting down Harris. I knew he was doing it for his own peace of mind, as well as mine, but I felt uneasy about approaching the bully. When I had known him he had been a large, blustery boy. Now he could very well be a big, brutal young man. I just hoped Fillmore had the sense not to antagonise him too much.

I dropped my bag off at the office before making my way towards the library. The corridors of X emptied out at lunch-time. Even on a cold day like this people preferred the taste of fresh air and freedom to the stuffy school atmosphere. There were some people who would hide themselves in the library though, and that was where I was hoping to find Flint and Rossi.

I walked into the book-lined room and felt the muscles in my back relax. There was something strange about libraries and book shops. I always felt as though I was coming home. The librarian smiled at me in recognition before bending her head back to repairing a textbook. It seemed such an idyllic job, but I couldn't imagine it holding my interest for long. I walked along one of the aisles, trailing my fingertips along the shelf like a blind girl trying to find her way. The covers of each book felt rough beneath my skin.

I looked up when I heard someone speaking, their voice pompous and arrogant. 'It's a simple quadratic dynamic. I fail to see how it can be confusing.'

That sounded like Flint. He was a mathematical genius, but sadly lacking in any basic social skills. He was very adept at rubbing people up the wrong way, myself included.

I rounded the corner and stood with my arms crossed, waiting for him to stop harassing the young student nearby. The girl noticed me and gave me a weak smile. Johanna Monaco was Tony's little sister, and was a charming girl. She'd only just started at X and was already making her mark. A fact that Flint was obviously taking personally.

'Johanna,' I called out quietly, trying not to disturb the students working around me. 'Your brother's looking for you.' I didn't think she'd mind the lie if it got her away from Flint's acerbic tongue.

She gave me a grateful smile and hurried away, leaving Flint to turn to me with a sneer on his face.

'Ms Third. I'd say it was a pleasure, but that would be a lie.'

'The feeling is mutual. I just want to ask you a couple of questions.'

'Need help with your homework?' His lips curved into a smug smile, but I ignored his bait and carried on regardless.

'Has anyone been threatening you lately, or leaving you flowers?'

Flint frowned at me and tapped his pencil against the desk. 'I don't have time for admirers.' He cleared his throat and sighed. 'You would, of course, be referring to the threatening calls the top five have received. I can understand your suspicion Ms Third, but I am disappointed in you for going for the most obvious suspect.'

'I'm just covering all the bases, Flint. So you haven't received anything?'

'No.'

'Thank you, that's helpful. When you get a spare moment in your schedule can you drop by the safety patrol office and let me know where you were on Monday between three and six pm., and Wednesday between ten and twelve.'

'Advanced Calculus group and Science class I believe.'

I nodded, expecting as much. Flint was the kind who filled every minute of his day. I took his pencil from his hand and scribbled a minor correction on his work. 'Thank you for your help, Flint. Let me know if you get any threatening phone calls.'

Flint didn't reply as I walked away, a small smile on my lips. Flint may be arrogant, but he was too intelligent for a blackmailing scheme. He liked nothing more than to rub his superiority in people's faces. If he ever had a master plan it would be convoluted genius. I'd check his alibi anyway, but I wasn't holding my breath for a confession.

Tanja Rossi would be in the fashion section of the library. She was an intelligent beauty, and as vain as the day was long. She was always sporting the latest highlights, lip gloss and accessories. It helped that Daddy had a big bank account, and gave her a very generous allowance.

She was just where I expected her to be, flicking through a copy of Vogue. Her nails were perfectly manicured, and gleamed in the dull library light. She threw me a look of annoyance when I approached and checked the time on her cell phone. 'Can you make this quick? I have places to be.'

'I just need a couple of minutes. Have you received any phone calls or flowers in the past few days?'

'Hundreds. I get roses in my locker every morning, and in case you hadn't realised I am quite popular.' She pouted and fluttered her eyelashes slightly. 'I'm just so busy these days.'

'So nothing out of the usual, then?' I demanded through gritted teeth. There was something about Rossi that made me want to claw her eyes out.

'No, Officer.'

'Did you miss any classes on Wednesday?'

'No, if I skip class Daddy takes my allowance away.'

'And where were you on Monday between about three and six pm?'

'Cheer leading try-outs.'

'Excuse me?' I blinked in confusion, despite myself. I knew cheerleaders were very respected and mostly quite intelligent, but they were often not taken seriously. That didn't seem to be what Rossi wanted out of life.

She shot me a venomous look. 'I am one of the best, Third. I am beautiful, and intelligent, and I shall not leave this school unknown. Since I have been unable to take your place in the grades, I'll just have to be the most popular girl in class.' She sniggered and glanced at her fingernails. 'Frankly, when the competition is people like you, that shouldn't be hard.' She stood up and swung her bag onto her back before flicking her long hair over her shoulder.

Her face morphed into an expression of sympathy when she saw the stitches on my forehead. 'Oh, that is going to scar. You should see about plastic surgery, and maybe get something done about your nose while you're there.'

I smiled vaguely and tried to keep my temper in check as she walked away, swinging her hips and catching the eye of every man in the room, including some of the teachers.

'It's a pity they don't do surgery for personalities.' I muttered to myself, folding the notebook away. There was something on the desk beneath the Vogue magazine, and I picked it up carefully. It was a library copy of the school policies. None of the pages were marked, and a quick scan of the contents didn't bring up anything obvious.

I put it down in disgust and walked away. I was too riled up by Rossi's comments to concentrate. I just wanted to get something to eat and clear my head. Her words about not leaving the school unknown struck me as a bit false. Nobody wanted to be a ghost, but in my mind Tanja was a girl most people would remember. It could have just been her seeking attention, but I filed it away in my mind, just in case.

I walked out of the library and headed towards my locker in the science corridor. The labs were always silent at this time of day, since students weren't allowed in unsupervised. I stopped outside my locker and twiddled the combination lock until it snicked open. A small mirror hung on the inside of the door and I scowled at my reflection. There was nothing wrong with my nose!

A movement in the mirror caught my eye and I spun around, slamming my locker shut behind me. Mike Harris stood barely a foot away, his face slicked with sweat and his skin flushed. He was still in his football gear and I realised he must have run from the football field to get to me. It couldn't have been much more than five minutes since he'd spoken to Fillmore. I swallowed as a cold sweat broke out across my forehead and between my shoulder blades. My hands instinctively curled into fists and I pressed my back against the locker, trying to get as much distance between him and me as possible.

'You bitch,' he snarled moving towards me with the slow, deliberate pace of a predator. 'You can't do this to me again. You can't set your safety officer friends on me!'

I drew in a breath to deny it, but his fist smacked into the locker door beside my ear, and I flinched away. It was a sign of weakness I shouldn't have shown, and I saw his lips curve in delight.

'Harris, don't do this.'

'I'm not doing anything,' he whispered, his voice taking on a husky tone as his breath tickled my cheek. 'Just thinking you've got prettier since the last time I saw you. You're still asking for it with those eyes of yours.'

I wanted to scream, or run, or kick him in the crotch, but I was frozen like a deer in the headlights of a car. Before he had been a bully, but now everything from his tone to the expression on his face was criminal. He reached out a hand and brushed it across the stitches on my forehead. I was trying to get away from him, but could only push myself harder against the locker door. I bit my lip and prayed in the silence of my mind that someone would find us. Fillmore, or Tony, or anyone.

As if in answer to my thoughts the radio in my bag, which rested at my feet, crackled to life and I heard Vallejo's tinny voice say, 'Officer in trouble. Everyone to the hallway outside the science rooms, now!'

Harris withdrew his hand quickly, and his fingernail snagged on one of the stitches, pulling it loose. I cried out in pain as the blood welled up, trickling down my face.

Harris froze for a moment, his expression torn between fear and exultation. He lashed out with his foot at my bag, sending the radio spinning across the floor. It shattered into bits against the wall. 'You tell anyone this was me, and it'll be you who's broken.'

By the time I'd dragged my gaze from the wreckage his footsteps were echoing away down the hall, and he was gone. His threat had barely registered in my mind, but now I groaned at the implication. I pressed my hand to my head and drew in a deep, shuddering breath. For a moment I thought I'd had it. I thought he was going to punch me in the face or force himself on me. Scenarios raced like a horror movie across my mind, but it seemed to me that they were just realities, delayed. He'd find me, if that's what he wanted, and today had proved that I was powerless to stop him.

I picked up the battered remains of the radio and my bag. A drop of blood splattered onto the floor and I forced the dizziness away. This was not going to be easy to explain, but despite the fact that Harris had threatened me, and touched me, the injury had honestly been an accident.

I hurried to the bathroom, knowing that Fillmore and the others would be here soon. The least I could do was try and stem the bleeding. The toilets were empty and I abandoned my bag by the sinks before reaching for some paper towels. Head wounds always bled so much, and the abrupt break of the stitches had reopened the gash on my head slightly. A track of brilliant red wound across my pale cheek and dripped from my chin. Furiously I pressed a pad of tissue against it and counted, slowly, to thirty.

My eyes fell on the remains of my radio again and I winced, trying to come up with an explanation for what had happened. Harris had cornered me, and warned me to keep the Safety Patrol away from him. His hand had been on the cut on my forehead, and the radio went off, and he jumped, and snagged the stitches...

Even the abridged version of the truth sounded bad, and that was leaving out his chilling voice and his hungry eyes. I shuddered and took the tissue away from my head. The wound oozed sluggishly, but the blood flow was a bit lighter. I walked back into the cubicle to get some toilet paper and had just pressed it to my head when I heard to door swing open.

'Ingrid?'

I smiled despite myself. 'I'm here, Fillmore.' I walked back to the sink and ran a basin full of water, not meeting his eyes until he grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him.

He looked furious, and I couldn't help but flinch. He saw it and let me go immediately as though I had physically pushed him away. 'We'll tell Folsom and he'll be out of this place by the end of the day,' he said, his voice low and full of unidentifiable emotion.

'It was an accident, Fillmore. I'm not going to tell Folsom.' The silence was thick and I drew in a breath. 'You do know this is a girl's bathroom, don't you?' I asked, trying to lighten his mood as I splashed water over my face, removing blood and makeup.

He didn't answer, but I saw him give a shrug in the mirror. He was leaning back against the bank of sinks, and I could see that he was trembling slightly.

'Fillmore, are you ok?'

'Was breaking your ribs an accident too?' His voice sounded bitter, and I drew back slightly. I would have scowled if my forehead didn't hurt so much.

'You read my file? What about my privacy, Fillmore?' I grabbed another tissue and wiped what remained of my lipstick off roughly.

'You weren't telling any of us, and I needed to know how bad it was!' He spun around, and I could see his disappointment and anger clearly. 'When you start keeping secrets you may as well just tell us that you don't trust us. We're all your friends, Ingrid. We all came running today, and now you're saying it was an accident?'

'Yes!' I winced as my head thudded in time with my heartbeat. 'Look, if Vallejo had called on the radio a few minutes later he might have done me deliberate harm, but he busted one stitch by accident.'

'How was he close enough?' Fillmore's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

'I – I just froze. I should have run away, but I couldn't.'

'So he was touching you?'

'Well, sort of.' Ingrid grimaced. This explanation wasn't going very well, and she could see Fillmore drawing his own conclusions. 'Look, Fillmore. I'm sorry for scaring you and the others, but this time Harris didn't do anything more than threaten, and that's not enough to get him kicked out of school for. At most it would get him into detention, and then it's his word against mine.'

I pressed my hand against my head again. 'I'm going to the school nurse. I might have to leave early if this needs restitching. If I'm not in class I'll see you tomorrow.'

'Fine.' Fillmore's voice was still curt and angry, and I felt my heart sink. My eyes stung with tears, but I blinked them away.

'It's not a matter of not trusting you, Fillmore. It's about not showing how weak I can be.' I let the door swing shut behind me, but Fillmore's quiet curse still reached my ears. I wasn't sure if it was at Harris, me, or himself. All I knew was that I'd let him down, and that made me feel so much worse than I already did.

I sat through the nurse's ministrations, answering her gentle questions with care. I kept my face carefully emotionless until she asked when my parents funeral was. I felt my heart thump against my ribs, and guilt pour into my mind. I'd almost forgotten.

'Tomorrow,' I whispered hoarsely, 'after school.'

'Well, dear. If you want to take the day off I will let your teachers know.' The middle-aged woman handed me a tissue and waited for me to dab my eyes. 'If you ever need someone to talk to, then my door is always open, okay Ingrid?'

'Thank you Miss Prince.'

'It's Elena, dear,' the nurse murmured. 'Well, the rest of the stitches should hold, and the steri-strips will do the job. If there is any pus, or you feel feverish, go straight to hospital.'

I murmured my thanks again and walked sightlessly out of the door. Lunch had ended ages ago, and I didn't want to interrupt the afternoon's classes. Instead I made my way to the office and sat behind my desk. I felt so – full. It felt as though so much was happening in my life that I couldn't get my head around it. Nothing should have been able to block my parents' death from my mind, but it had, and I felt as though I was robbing them of my grief.

It took only a few moments for me to make up my mind, and once I had I surged to my feet. I scribbled a note and left it on Fillmore's desk before checking that I had everything I needed. I locked the office behind me and strode back to the nurse's officer. She smiled in understanding when I informed her that I wouldn't be in school until Monday, and said she'd tell the Principal and my teachers where I was. I squared my shoulders as I walked out of the school and breathed in the cool air. People could help you with bullies and homework, but no one could help you find your strength, or ease your grief. I was saying goodbye to my parents for the last time tomorrow, and I wouldn't let anything or anyone get in the way of that. Not mysterious phone calls, not Fillmore, and certainly not Harris.

I knew I had to be strong, even though I couldn't recall a time when I had felt more powerless in my life.

**End of Chapter 7**

A/N: Ok, so Harris didn't deliberately hurt Ingrid this time, but who knows how long he'll leave her alone. How will Ingrid cope with her parents funeral, and whose shoulder will she lean on when it gets too much?

As always thanks to reviewers and my apologies for missing an update on Thursday. I had a cold, as you can probably tell from the strangeness of this chapter!


	8. Funeral

**Shattered**

By: Abellen

Chapter Eight: Funeral

'As we commit their bodies to the ground; earth to earth; ashes to ashes, dust to dust.'

Rain drummed on the coffin lids as the priest intoned his grim, hollow words. I knew that they were meant to bring me comfort, but I could feel nothing but the cold. Ariella's hand held my own numb fingers. She clung on as though I was her only lifeline, and I knew that my grasp was just as tight. Tears trailed down her face, mixing with the rain with poetic beauty. My grief wouldn't show itself, and all I could do was shiver as the priest quietly closed his bible and bowed his head.

The caskets were lowered slowly into the twin graves and I felt panic well up in my throat. My mind was clamouring, unable to believe the truth that was in front of me. It couldn't be my parents in those slender wooden boxes, being buried in the cold, unforgiving earth. I couldn't be this girl, standing at the side of a grave without a tear to shed.

Ariella took a handful of dirt and threw it onto each casket. It rattled on the wooden lids and echoed through the cold, wet air. The bowl of soil was offered to me, and I copied my sister's movements before the small gathering of officials disbanded, leaving the gravediggers to do their work.

The social worker stood a discreet distance away, huddled under an umbrella. She was wearing a faded black suit and a deeply worried expression as she waited for us to say our goodbyes. Ariella drew in a ragged, choking breath and lifted her face to the rain, as though trying to find a moment of emotional calm. I squeezed her hand tight and waited for her to speak.

'What are we going to do?' she asked quietly as she wiped her face with a shaking hand.

For a minute I didn't know what to say. Something deep inside me wanted to lie down and give up, but I knew that wasn't an option. I stood and watched the wet earth slowly hide the coffins from view, and tried not to feel as though it were my own grave the solemn men were filling.

I sighed and opened an umbrella over Ariella's head. 'We have to keep going,' I replied in a voice that sounded alien to my ears. 'What else can we do?'

She looked at me and, for a moment, I saw a hot anger in her eyes. 'How can you stand there as though nothing has happened? How can you be so calm?'

I didn't answer, but I kept hold of her hand and led her gently towards the car that was waiting for us. Not a word was said on the journey back to our empty house, and it wasn't until we were settled in the warm living room that the social worker dared to speak. She put a card timidly on the table and gravely offered her condolences. 'You can call me at any time of the day or night, for whatever reason, even if it's only for someone to talk to.' Her kind eyes went from Ariella's face to mine as we both nodded glumly. 'Have you any friends to stay with, or who could stay with you? Often the week after the funeral is the worst.'

'We'll be okay,' Ariella answered, her voice stronger now. 'We have friends, even if we don't have any family anymore. Thank you.'

The woman showed herself out, saying that she would be back in the next few days to check on us. Silence filled the house and I shivered again in my wet clothes. The clock ticked steadily, and I found myself focussing on the noise until I couldn't think of anything but the repetitive rhythm. It was a reassuring sound in a world that had become like quicksand. All my thoughts kept returning to one morose idea after the other, and I heard my breath hitch in my throat.

Ariella looked up at me from where she sat and hurried to my side. 'Ingrid, are you all right?' Her hand flew to my forehead and her eyes instantly went to the cut on my forehead. 'Are you having headaches? Do you feel feverish?'

'No, no, I'm fine. I just feel like I need to – to be outside. To think.'

Ariella tightened her hand on mine and murmured, 'I'm sorry for shouting at you. I was upset. I know you're different from me. I – just – Ingrid please don't pull away from me.'

The doorbell rang and both of us looked up, briefly confused by the sound. Ariella stroked my cheek for a second before she went to answer it. I followed, more out of curiosity than anything else, and I smiled at what I saw. A young man stood on the doorstep. He could only be a year older than Ariella at most, but his face was full of concern, which made him seem older. His name was Mark. He was in the same classes as Ariella, and often partnered with her on hteir larger art projects. I would bet everything I had that he fancied Ariella. A blind man could see that she was sweet on him.

'I know this is a bad time, but I thought you wouldn't want to cook afterwards. So I brought you this. Well, my Mom made it, but...' he trailed off, smiling nervously as Ariella took the bowl of stew out of his hands, a warm smile on her pale face.

'Thanks. Why don't you come in? You must be soaking!'

'Are you sure?'

'Yes, it's fine, isn't Ingrid?'

I nodded and smiled weakly at Mark, who was wiping his feet on the doormat. He and Ariella were chatting about nothing of any importance, complaining about their art projects from class, and I leapt on the opportunity to escape. 'Is it okay if I just go for a walk in the park? Just to clear my head? I'll be back by six.'

Ariella bit her lip, obviously torn between her need to keep an eye on me, and her need to make sure I was happy. Mark saw the internal debate on her face and pulled out his cell phone. 'Why don't you take this?' he asked, offering it to me. 'That way you can call home if you need to.'

I looked at Ariella for her agreement and she finally nodded. 'Okay Ingrid, but don't stay out too long, and please try and stay at least a bit dry.'

I gave her a quick hug before I picked up an umbrella and stepped outside into the rain. Ariella needed people around her at a time like this, that was obvious. I needed time alone, and I knew it was going to be hard to come by. The oppressive heat of panic that had surrounded me in the house faded and I breathed a sigh of relief. The rain was cool against my face and I left the umbrella swinging at my side as I walked down the wet sidewalk. I was still had on the same clothes I had worn to the funeral, and the long black skirt already had an inch of mud around the hem. Goosebumps ran up my bare forearms and I hugged them around myself. The black top wasn't enough to keep out the cold, but I welcomed the sensation. It was a reminder that I was alive, unlike my parents.

I glanced at my watch and contemplated returning to school. Lessons would be over, but the warm sanctuary of the Safety Patrol office was tempting. Unfortunately I knew that Vallejo wouldn't have left for home yet, and there was a good chance that the others would be hanging around. Despite myself I gave a small, hollow laugh. It was sad that while other kids ran home to enjoy the weekend we hung around, almost unwilling to leave.

I turned instead towards the park. At least that would be abandoned in the rain. Swings and merry-go-rounds lost their appeal when they were slick with the wet. As soon as I was beyond the park gates I moved off of the path and onto the softer, springier grass. The swings were deserted, and I put my umbrella to one side before sitting on one. The chains creaked, but held as I swung slowly back and forth. The other two swings swung as well, entertaining the phantoms on the wind. The squeaking of metal was a desolate sound, and only compounded my dire mood.

Ariella was right to shout at me. A normal child would have wept and howled to see their parents buried, but I had stood like a statue, rejecting the truth with every fibre of my being. I refused to believe that I would never make my father laugh again, or see the proud look in my mother's eyes. I would never be told how much they loved me, or how much they cared.

I thought back to the day of the accident and realised that I hadn't once during that day told them that I loved them. If I had known it would be my last chance I would have made sure they knew it, but now it was too late. I'd never hear their voices, or feel their hugs. All that remained of my parents was buried six feet into the cold earth and nothing in the world could ever bring them back.

The sob was loud in the quiet park and I bit my lip as the hot tears finally fell down my face, dripping from my chin. My mind continued to push the truth home as I forced myself to understand what had happened. The rain strengthened and the wind howled across the park, making the trees rustle and the swings sway more violently. I trembled and stilled my own seat before putting my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands.

Tears pooled in my palms as my breath steamed in the air in front of me. My teeth chattered with the cold and my eyes stung, but the tears wouldn't stop flowing. I stood up abruptly and tightened my hands into fists at my sides. I shut my eyes and took three deep, calming breaths. I had to be strong. Crying wouldn't solve anything, and it wouldn't bring them back. Yes, I missed them, and I would give anything to have them back, but that wasn't possible. There was no price on life, and there weren't any second chances. I'd lost them, and I couldn't get them back.

Another whimper lodged in my throat and I let out a tiny whine of frustration. Mind over matter wasn't working. It was as though my body ached to weep, and now it had started there wasn't anything that could bring it to a halt. I slumped back onto the swing and rested my forehead against the cold chain. I shut my eyes and stopped fighting the sadness inside me. I was so lost in the depths of sorrow that I didn't hear footsteps approaching.

My eyes jerked open in surprise when I heard the soft, almost leathery sound of an umbrella opening, and shielding me from the rain. I looked around and saw Fillmore, leaning silently against one of the metal props of the swing set. He had the umbrella at arm's length so that it covered me, but left him unsheltered. The rain was soaking through his black t-shirt and his baggy jeans were muddy.

I must have looked a pitiful sight because he moved closer and took a tissue out of his pocket. He handed it to me and I tried to mop up the ceaseless tears. My hands were shaking furiously and my teeth chattered like castanets. He grabbed my hand and took the tissue before wiping it gently across my cheek.

'Ingrid, you're freezing. You're going to get ill,' he said softly as he watched another tear replace the ones he'd just wiped away. 'Do you want me to walk you home?'

I shook my head, and bit my lip painfully. Part of me wanted to make him leave me alone, but another part desperately wanted him to stay. A shiver raced through me as another wave of despair enveloped my mind. I felt my knees buckle, but in a split second Fillmore's arms were around me, holding me against him.

I could feel his heart thudding beneath my palm ad I buried my face in his shoulder and cried all the harder. 'I want my mom,' I whispered mournfully. I sounded more like a little girl than a young woman, but it was a tragic plea and I felt Fillmore's arms tighten around me further as though he was worried he'd lose me if he didn't hang on.

'I'm so sorry, Ingrid,' he whispered, stroking my tangled hair with one hand as he waited for my sobs to fade.

The umbrella lay abandoned on the floor and the rain continued to pour down, drenching us both. I don't know how long it took for me to run out of tears, but it seemed as though painful hours had passed. I pulled back slightly and took a few deep breaths, wincing at the pounding in my head. My eyes burned, and there was a deep, hollow ache in my stomach.

'I'm sorry,' I mumbled, feeling a flash of embarrassment at having cried so openly all over him. Fillmore's respect was something I treasured, and I despised the fact that I hadn't been able to maintain emotional control, or at least get a shaky hold on it.

Fillmore raised an eyebrow. 'Ingrid, there's nothing to be sorry for.' He caught sight of me shivering and loosened his hold before digging into his bag and pulling out a denim jacket. He draped it over my shoulders and reached for the umbrella before sheltering the pair of us from the rain.

'Don't you want this?' I asked, fingering the collar of the jacket.

'No, I'll be all right. You're the one who's been sitting still in the rain.'

'I needed some space,' I said, a touch defensively. 'The house was just so – smothering.'

'Are you going to be okay to go home?'

I thought about the oppressive weight of sorrow that reigned over the house, but nodded. 'I need to be with Ariella. I can't leave her for long.'

Fillmore nodded, and steered the conversation onto safer territory as he took my hand and began to lead me home.

We talked about school, and the atmosphere of despair as the "un-important" test day approached. Danny was apparently going crazy because he couldn't do long division without a calculator, and Tehama spent the time muttering the table of elements to herself.

'Vallejo's too busy to care, and Anza's indifferent, as usual.'

'What about you, Fillmore?'

'I'll do all right, besides they did say they weren't going on our permanent record. It's a test for the school, rather than us.'

'I suppose so. I just think that the everyone's edgy enough without another exam. There's got to be an easier way.'

Fillmore made a non-committal noise and moved a bit closer to me as we crossed the street and approached my house. The windows were all lit, and it was hard to imagine that there wasn't a complete, happy family inside. I grimaced and went to take off the jacket, but Fillmore just shook his head. 'Keep it, you're still cold. I'll have it back on Monday.'

'But you've got to walk home!'

'I'll be okay,' he smiled slightly, waiting for the inevitable argument.

'Fine, but you have to keep the umbrella.''

'Deal.'

We stopped on the porch and Fillmore's face became serious again. 'Ingrid, if there's anything I can do... Well, you've got my number. Call me if you need someone to talk to, okay?'

'You might regret that, you know.'

'I mean it. Even if it's the middle of the night.'

'Thank you. I – um...' I took a deep breath and stepped forward and stood on tiptoe before kissing him very quickly on the cheek. 'I'll see you Monday, Fillmore.'

'Yeah,' he said quietly, with a slightly shocked look on his face.

I smiled and slipped inside the house. A backward glance gave me a glimpse of him turning to walk down the steps and out into the rain before I shut the door on the outside world. The little smile soon faded as the gravity of the day fell back into place. The kiss had been the only way I could think of to really show my gratitude, and yet I knew it hadn't been selfless. The slightest touch from Fillmore in any situation sent electric tingles shooting all over me. It was like a drug, addictive.

I caught sight of myself in the mirror and groaned. I looked like a wreck. The saving grace was that I'd worn waterproof make-up, but I still looked pale and tear-stained.

'Mark?' I called out, putting his cell phone on the table by the door.

'He's gone home,' Ariella answered from the kitchen. 'Dinner'll be ready in a few.'

'All right, I'm just going to go in the shower!'

I ran upstairs, stripping out of the soaking clothes as I did so. I hung Fillmore's jacket on the bathroom door handle and flicked the shower on before stepping under the spray. I lingered in the bathroom until the air was laden with vapour, before I dried myself off and slipped into my pyjamas. I hesitated for a moment before picking up Fillmore's jacket and shrugging it on. It was only for warmth, I decided.

Ariella was sitting on the sofa, curled up under an eiderdown as she ate the thick stew from a bowl. She smiled at me and pulled back to covers so that I could curl up next to her. I picked at the stew and the bread, my appetite too feeble to do the meal justice. We watched pointless romantic comedies, and didn't speak a word about the funeral, or the desperate aching loneliness that seemed to creep through the house.

I took off Fillmore's jacket and folded it into a rough pillow before lying down on the couch, my feet on Ariella's knees. Gradually I felt my eyelids grow heavy and drifted into sleep, exhausted by the day's events.

I woke with a start, a blood curdling scream still lingering in my ears. My heart thundered in my chest and I heard Ariella's footsteps hurrying in from the kitchen. 'Ingrid, what's wrong?'

'Blood, blood everywhere!'

'Ingrid, it's all right. It was just a dream. It's ok,' she wrapped her arms around me and swayed gently as I my panicked gasps subsided.

'They were burying me.'

'Who were?' Ariella asked gently, stroking my hair.

'Mum and Dad, they were burying me and they didn't care, and they were bleeding all over the place.'

I shut my eyes but images flashed across the darkness. Pictures of blood and graves and my parents, dead in the car. I opened them again hurriedly and bundled the eiderdown around myself. Ariella handed me the denim jacket and I grasped at it, burying my face in the rough material.

She turned and flicked the T.V. onto one of the many kids channels. I watched as Disney's Recess kids got up to their usual mischief, hardly daring to blink. I accepted the warm milk that Ariella offered me, and made room for her on the sofa. She drifted off to sleep in the early hours of the morning, but my eyes remained glued to the screen. The smell of blood lingered in my nostrils and my memory tormented me.All I could do was tremble and cling to Fillmore's jacket like a girl would hug her teddy bear.

I was lost in grief and horror, and it was hard to imagine that I could ever find my way back to the confident person I used to be.

**End of Chapter 8**

A/N: Thank you, as always to my reviewers. I'm having such a good time writing this! Unfortunately real life's a little busy at the moment, so posting twice a week is a little optimistic. For now Ill just say Sunday is update tay, and promise to update aevery weekend.

Abellen xxx


	9. Foreboding

**Shattered**

By: Abellen

Chapter Nine: Foreboding

'You're looking cheerful this morning, Cornelius,' my mother said as I entered the kitchen. She watched as I picked up my science book from under the fruit bowl where it had spent the duration of the weekend before she continued. 'Is there any reason for it? Normally on Monday you're bordering on morose.'

'No, no reason,' I replied as I packed the last of my things into my bag, including Ingrid's umbrella.

'Hmmm, okay. Well, say "Hi" to Ingrid for me.' She smiled into her coffee mug as my head shot up, before becoming serious. 'You will remember what I said, won't you? I don't want to see you or Ingrid get hurt.'

'I know, Mom. I'm just doing what you said, and being there if she needs anyone to talk to.'

She nodded in approval and put a scarf around my neck. 'Don't complain; it's cold outside.' She fiddled with the woolly material for a moment before she sighed. 'Cornelius, promise me that if you think Ingrid is in real trouble you'll tell an adult rather than trying to sort it out by yourself?'

'You mean from Harris?'

'From the bully, or from anything else...' she trailed off, looking grim before she shook her head and smiled. 'Never mind, it's just silly "Mom" worries. Now, you'd better get going or you'll be late.'

I grabbed my bag and headed for the door, my stomach twisting in knots at Mom's ominous words. I barely heard my Dad, and only managed a vague goodbye before I shut the door.

I wished that I could be serious and unimaginative like Vallejo, but my mind had no problem in creating and then leaping to the worst conclusion. I tried to think of what Mom might have meant. All I could think of was that she thought Ingrid might be harmful towards herself. My gut reaction was a distinct "no". Ingrid was a strong girl, and I couldn't see her falling prey to that kind of problem. But then it was only a week ago today that she had been lying in that hospital bed, and she hadn't been the same since.

On the outside she had been herself: tough, uncompromising and collected, but there were cracks in her armour. Underneath she was vulnerable and in pain. I remembered how she'd looked in the park. I had seen her sitting on the swing, her head in her hands as her long skirt hem rested in the mud. She had looked so small and defenceless, and when I got closer I had realised just how distraught she was. It had shaken me to the core to see my partner like that, but at the same time it made me realise more than ever before how she needed help. It didn't matter how much she protested against it, she needed to be protected.

My lips twisted in anger as I thought of Harris. The others had been outraged when they heard about Ingrid's busted stitches, and couldn't believe she wasn't going to tell Folsom. Anza had scoffed when I told him she said it was an accident, and I had to admit that I still didn't quite believe her. If Harris knew just how defenceless Ingrid was now he would pounce.

I shoved my thoughts away from the idea of her in Harris' grip and thought about the day in the park instead. I had felt so useless. Every tear I wiped away was replaced with two more, and all I could do was hold her as she sobbed. Ingrid seemed to appreciate it though. She hadn't taken her hand out of mine until we got back to her house. She had been grateful enough to kiss my cheek... I grinned at the memory, and wondered what would have happened if I had just kissed her back.

My train of thought ground to a halt when I reached the stop sign near school. Ingrid wasn't waiting for me today, and that made my gut twist and butterflies flurry in my stomach. I quickened my pace towards the school and jogged up the steps to the doors. In a matter of minutes I was inside the office, but only Anza and Vallejo were waiting for me.

'Ingrid's not with you?' Vallejo asked, his face twisted with concern.

'No, I thought she might be here.' I took the scarf off and threw it over the back of my chair.

'Maybe she's in class already?' Anza asked, checking his watch. 'Although twenty minutes is a bit early to be in class, even for Ingrid.'

'She'll be here,' I said quietly, more to calm myself than the others. I grabbed the mug and mixed up some hot chocolate before perching on my desk to wait.

The door opened and we all looked up, only to slump as Tehama wandered in.

'Nice to see you too,' she sniffed, taking off her gloves.

'We're waiting for Ingrid.'

'Oh.' Tehama bit her lip and reached into her bag before putting a bar of chocolate onto Ingrid's desk. 'She's probably going to need this alot more than me. Has anyone seen her this weekend?

Vallejo and Anza shook their heads, but Tehama quickly noticed my lack of denial and raised an enquiring eyebrow.

'I saw her on Friday, just after the funeral. She was pretty upset.' I scowled at that understatement. 'Look, maybe she won't be in today. She might just need the time to herself, you know?'

'Yeah, I know,' Vallejo said soothingly. 'It's just I'd feel a lot better if I knew she was okay.'

I got to my feet and left the office silently, too wrapped up in my own thoughts to see the worried glances of the other officers. I had fought with myself all weekend over whether or not to call Ingrid. I had been desperate for reassurance that she was coping, but at the same time I knew Ingrid. At a time like this she wouldn't want pity, or to be smothered in concern. She would want her space. In the end I hadn't called at all, but now I was regretting my decision.

English was the first lesson of the day and I took my seat. I watched as people filed in, yawning and complaining. I had all but given up hope that Ingrid would be in today when she slipped through the door. She looked pale and drawn, but it was the deep shadows under her eyes made me wince in concern. She looked like she hadn't slept for days. She gave me a tiny smile of greeting as she slipped into her seat next to the window. I was about to speak when a woman stormed into the room, slamming the door behind her.

She was tall and menacing, with grey hair pulled into a tight bun on the back of her head. Her face was marred with frown lines and her lips were pursed. I heard Ingrid give a tiny groan. Ms Hawthorne was a substitute teacher, but rather than a gentle, well-meaning soul who would cut us some slack she was a battle axe. She acted as though every student was a waste of space, and she took delight in picking on people.

Everyone in the front row had cringed backwards when she entered, and watched her with horrified eyes as she barked out the register. When she was done she began to pace the room, lecturing on Shakespeare. She criticised the bard with every sentence, and I found myself feeling sorry for the long-dead writer. Ingrid was staring fixedly ahead, an unusual glazed look in her eyes. I knew that she was fond of some of Shakespeare's work, but she knew better than to question Hawthorne.

It was almost the end of the lesson when Ms Hawthorne stopped her pacing in front of Ingrid's desk. She tapped her foot impatiently and I frowned in confusion. Ingrid was awake, and had even made a few judicious notes, which was more than anyone else.

'Do you believe yourself beyond this class, Ms Third?' Hawthorne hissed, fixing Ingrid with a steely glare.

'No Ma'am,' Ingrid said quietly, her face carefully neutral.

'No? And yet you interrupt my lecture by scribbling incessantly. The other teachers cry their praises of you Ms Third, but I see nothing special in you.'

Ingrid remained silent which only seemed to annoy the substitute teacher further.

'You'll serve an hour in detention for your attitude.'

'What?'

Tehama and I had said it at the same time, but Hawthorne spun around and moved towards me. 'Do you have something to say to me, Mr Fillmore?'

Ingrid shook her head emphatically behind the teacher's back and I could see Anza leaning across his desk, whispering soothing words to Tehama. It would be wise just to keep my mouth shut...

'She hasn't done anything wrong! How can you give her detention?' I demanded.

'Easily, Mr Fillmore. You will be joining Ms Third for your impertinence. I suggest you hold your tongue in future.'

By the time the bell rang I had thought of half a dozen ways to get back at Hawthorne. Karen had glared at her constantly, and Anza kept cracking his knuckles menacingly. Ingrid had done nothing. She had sat with her hands in the pockets of my denim jacket and stared at her desk, as though it held the answers to life's mysteries. At the sound of the bell she lifted her head and waited for Hawthorne to confirm the end of the double lesson.

'You may go.'

None of us said a word until we were back in the calm of the Safety Patrol office. Ingrid slumped in her chair and shut her eyes. She didn't open them again until Vallejo put the mug on her desk. It was brimming with strong black coffee, and Ingrid cupped it in her palms.

'Are you gonna be okay?' he asked quietly.

Ingrid took a deep breath. 'Eventually.'

'If you need time off from the Patrol or anything, you let me know.'

'Thanks, Vallejo. I'll be fine. I just need to keep going, that's all.' Ingrid took a gulp of the coffee, and shut her eyes again.

'All right,' Vallejo looked around the room and frowned. 'Anza, Tehama, I need you two to go down to the cheer-leading club.'

'What happened?'

'Apparently someone's been taking money from their cash tin. See if you can get any prints or anything, and take Danny with you.'

Vallejo slipped into his office and shut the door as the three officers departed, leaving Ingrid and I in peace. She looked bone weary, and seemed to be having trouble keeping her eyes open. 'Are you really going to be okay?' I asked softly.

Ingrid didn't even open her eyes this time. 'I'll be fine, Fillmore. I just haven't been sleeping well.'

'Why don't you take a nap or something? You've got an hour before lessons.'

'I should be working on something,' she said quietly, but it was obvious she was losing her battle against sleep.

'Just rest for a few minutes. I'll wake you up.'

Obediently she leaned forward and put her head on her arms, which were resting on her desk. Within moments her breathing deepened, and she was asleep.

I worked as quietly as I could for about twenty minutes, trying to find any clue to the mysterious callers that had been bothering X's top students. We were still waiting for them to make their next move, and had drawn up nothing but dead ends. I couldn't decide if it had all been a hoax, or if the perpetrators were just lulling us into a false sense of security.

It was halfway through the lunch hour when Tehama marched back into the office, a thunderous expression on her face. She didn't say a word, but sat at her desk with her back to the room. Minutes later Anza and Danny walked in, both giving their full attention to the cheerleader between them.

Tanja Rossi was the picture of distress, and was also one of the prettiest girls in school, in a Barbie doll kind of way. Her wide blue eyes found me and before I knew it her hands were on my arm.

'Oh Officer Fillmore, you've just got to help us! They taken nearly fifty dollars!' Rossi squealed, fluttering her eyelashes.

'Without that money we've got no chance of entering the state competitions,' a brunette cheerleader stated as she closed the door. She was the picture of level-headed calm, and gave me a warm smile. 'It's not the end of the world, but it validates the squads existence.'

'Can I take your name, miss?' I asked, detaching Rossi from me and moving to the less dramatic cheerleader.

'Marlene Kelly. I'm the head of the squad. We noticed the money was missing this morning.' She continued to describe what had happened as I dutifully took notes. 'We were cut from the funding a few years back to make way for the Scholarship programme. We make all our own money through events, which actually works well for us because we don't have to justify the funds.'

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Ingrid's eyes snap open, and saw her hands clench into fists for a moment, before flattening again. No one in the room seemed to notice and she remained motionless, glancing around with a frightened look on her face. After a moment she got to her feet and made her way to Tehama's desk, ignoring the cheerleaders and talking in a low voice to Karen.

Eventually the two young women left. Marlene strode out of the room, while Tanja simpered and flirted her way to the door. I rolled my eyes in disbelief. She might be pretty, but she was used to getting her way and knew it. The fact that Danny and Anza had obviously fallen over themselves to help her only encouraged her.

'Cow,' Karen muttered when she had gone. 'There's nothing wrong with my nose! At least it's the one I was born with!'

Ingrid gave a tired chuckle. 'Did you find any prints?'

'Nothing that didn't belong there. All the cheerleaders had access to the box. It was probably an inside job. Do you think we can pin it on Rossi?'

'I wish. Did you take an pictures of the scene?'

'Of course,' Karen turned to Danny. 'Can you get those photos developed as soon as possible?'

'Yeah, sure. I can have them done by the end of the day.'

'Let me know if you find anything interesting?' Ingrid asked.

'Well whatever's going on, it'll have to wait. We've got History.' I pointed to the clock, where the hands were edging towards the end of lunch I just hope Hawthorne isn't substituting in that, as well.'

------------------

The bell rang to announce the last lesson of the day and I stifled a groan. Normally I'd be glad to get back to the office and get some work done, but instead I was going to be spending an hour my time staring into space. Detention was a punishment that rarely caused reform. It was a waste of time, particularly when handed out by power-hungry substitutes like Hawthorne.

Ingrid waited for me outside of the door and we made our way towards the detention hall. 'Can you think of anyone scheduled for today?' I asked. Sitting in a room full of people I'd caught committing crimes didn't appeal.

'No one's on the books. It might just be the two of us. You could get some homework done.'

'I haven't got any. None of the teachers are giving out homework with the exams on Thursday.'

'I'm sure we can find _something_ to keep us occupied.'

I raised an eyebrow as Ingrid gave a tired but cheeky grin. 'Got anything particular in mind, Third?'

'We'll see.'

The hall was empty and the two of us sat down in seats close to the front. Normally there was a teacher to make sure we were thinking about what we'd done, but none had put in an appearance yet.

'I don't think Rossi was impressed with you today,' Ingrid said, smothering a yawn as she swung on the back legs of her chair. 'I think she was expecting you to melt at her feet.'

'She's too shallow and manipulative.'

'You sound like your speaking from experience.' When I didn't reply Ingrid looked at me, her tired eyes wide with curiosity. 'Have you been out with her?'

'It was ages ago,' I said defencively. 'She was less stuck up then, all though still pretty bad. It wasn't serious!'

'How old were you, and how come I didn't notice?'

'Not old enough to know what a relationship was about, and it was well before you got here.'

'Who is old enough to know what a relationship is about?' Ingrid murmured, going back to swinging on her chair. 'Her friend wasn't so bad though. She seemed pretty down-to-earth.'

'Yeah. You'd think most people would be worked up about having their money stolen, but she seemed pretty calm about it.'

Ingrid shook her head tiredly and gave a small groan. 'I'm too tired to think. I keep thinking about this case, but I can't put the pieces together.'

'Why haven't you been sleeping?' It was a tentative question, which I didn't expect her to answer.

She paused for a moment, staring unseeingly at the wall. 'I keep having very bad dreams. Every time I close my eyes I can see my parents in the car. I keep dreaming that they're burying me alive and I can't get out. I can't sleep for more than a little while before the dreams wake me up again.'

'Doesn't anything help?'

Ingrid shook her head. 'Ariella stays with me, and it's easier, but she's just as tired. She needs a break, but I can't sleep if I'm by myself.'

'Well, I'm here now. Why don't you doze off? If it looks like you're having a bad dream I'll wake you up.' I moved closer and offered her my shoulder to lean on. She looked at me for a moment with a puzzled frown on her face, before accepting it. 'Just don't dribble on me, okay?'

'I don't dribble, Fillmore,' she laughed quietly, before closing her eyes.

The minute hand crept around the clock and I tried not to make any movements that might awaken Ingrid. I was just starting to get stiff muscles in my back and neck when she made a tiny whimpering sound. I heard her breathing turn into panicked gasps and her body begin to tremble and shudder. Quickly I shook her shoulder, and her eyes snapped open.

'You all right?'

She shook her head and pulled her knees up to her chest. 'I just want to sleep,' she whispered.

'Come on, we've been here an hour. Why don't we get you home?'

'No,' she replied, her voice strengthening with conviction. 'I don't want to go home yet. Let's get back to the office; we've got work to do.'

As I followed her down the hall I couldn't help but feel my anxiety escalate. Ingrid was practically helpless, held prisoner by the torments of her own mind, and I was powerless to help her. I was beginning to think that the Ingrid I knew would be lost forever. It was as though she had died with her parents in that car, and what was left was nothing but a shadow of grief and pain. Every now and a gain a flicker of the old Ingrid would shine through, but that flame was dimming. If anything else happened to her it might be the end of Ingrid Third.

**End Of Chapter 9**

There are probably at least another five chapters to go of this story, and possibly more. I hope you carry on enjoying it, and reviewing! I'm also not sure when the next update will be, as I'm going away next the weekend, but I'll try and get one up soon!

p.s. To Amoeba 2: I just liked the pattern of using "F" words in all of the chapter titles. I am running out of ideas though!


	10. Fortitude

**Shattered**

By: Abellen

Chapter Ten: Fortitude

Tehama was leaning against Ingrid's desk when we arrived back in the Safety Patrol office. She was flicking through some squares of glossy paper with an annoyed frown on her face. She glanced up when we came in, and a small smile tugged at her lips. 'How was detention?'

'Pointless,' I stated. 'Ingrid caught up on some lost sleep, but that was it.'

'At least it was empty,' Karen reminded me. 'If it was tomorrow you'd have had three frauds and a graffitti artist glaring at you.'

I grunted and took the photos out of her hand before giving them a cursory glance. The cheerleaders' headquarters seemed pretty average. There were various colours of pom-pom, and mirrors for them to practice their routines in front of. Lockers lined one wall, all neatly closed and graffiti free. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary and I dropped them on Ingrid's desk. 'Did we miss anything?'

'No, it's like a grave.' Karen winced at her faux pas and looked at Ingrid. 'Sorry, Ingrid.'

'Don't worry about it; it's just a phrase.'

'I'm beginning to think that nothing's going to come of the threats. It's almost like someone was just deliberately shaking people up.'

'I'm not so sure,' Ingrid mumbled as Tehama busied herself at the microscope. 'I think they're waiting for something. Some school event, or perhaps a certain time of year. They've gone to a lot of effort just to hoax us.' She gave a soft groan of pain and I looked up at her sharply.

My partner was sitting with her elbows on her desk and her head in her hands. What I could see of her face was twisted in pain, and she was massaging her right temple with her hand. I'd seen her make a similar motion when trying to recall a photographic memory from the myriad of images in her head, but I'd never seen her look so agonised from it before.

She gave a growl of annoyance and straightened up, rolling her shoulders before picking up the chocolate bar Tehama had left on her desk and snapping it in half. She gave one half back to Karen and took a small bite of the other, before picking up one of the photographs and frowning at it in thought.

'You okay?' I asked as she rifled through the photos, glaring at each one.

'Yeah. I've seen one of these before, or something in one of these, but I can't think what!'

'I thought photographic memories were supposed to be perfect,' Tehama said softly, obviously not wanting to annoy Ingrid further.

Ingrid jabbed a finger at the wound on her forehead. The stitches had been removed, but sterile adhesive tape still held it together. 'Head injuries disturb them. Memories directly before and after are crystal clear, but then the mechanism goes a bit,' she paused, trying to think of the right word, 'wobbly. I'm getting a feeling of deja vu from one of these photos, but I don't know which one, or why.'

'Are you sure?'

'Yes, Fillmore, I'm sure. Something in one of these photos shouldn't be there, and I've seen it somewhere before.'

She grabbed the pictures and stuck them up one by one on a marker board on the wall. There were six in all, showing the rooms from every angle.

'Well there's a football shirt in that one,' Tehama pointed out. 'What's that doing in a cheer-leading head quarters?'

'The footballer's lockers are just across from there,' I said dubiously, squinting at the red top with a white X on the front.

'That's number seven. Meredith Lackey's older brother plays that spot. Meredith's on the cheer-leading squad. Chances are she borrowed it to wear around school,' Ingrid mumbled, barely sparing the red jersey a glance. 'That's not what I'm looking for.'

We spent the next half an hour pouring ceaselessly over the pictures, and it was only when I noticed how distressed Ingrid was getting that I stopped. 'School finished nearly two hours ago, and even Vallejo's gone home. Come on, let's call it a night.'

'But-'

'No, Ingrid. You're running on no sleep and strong caffeine.' I crossed my arms prepared, as always, for the argument to come, but rather than standing her ground Ingrid ran a hand through her hair and backed down.

'Fine,' she mumbled, with one last hateful look at the wall of photographs.

'I'll see you two tomorrow,' Karen called as she headed for the door, her bag on her shoulder. 'I hope you sleep better, Ingrid.'

'Thanks Karen. See you in the morning.'

I waited for Ingrid to get her stuff together. She ha always had a habit of spreading her work all over the office. Many mornings I'd found startling mathematical equations on my desk that she'd scribbled out the day before.

She finally got her books together and shrugged out of the denim jacket.

I shook my head when she held it out for me to take back. 'Keep it,' I said. 'It's getting too small for me.'

'You sure?'

'Yeah. I've got another, bigger one at home.' I watched her shrug it back on and a thought that had fluttered through my mind all day came back full force. There was something good about seeing Ingrid wearing my jacket. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but it was satisfying to think that, in some small way, I was providing for her.

'Thanks, Fillmore. Do me a favour and keep the umbrella? You never seem to have one, and we have plenty at home.' Ingrid asked as she pulled her hair free of the collar.

'Deal.'

Just before she left she snatched one photo off of the board and slipped it into her bag.

'You know you shouldn't take evidence home,' I sighed.

'I'm just eliminating it from the equation that's all. Besides, it'll take my mind off of sorting through my parents' stuff. Ariella and I were wondering if we should sell the place.'

I stiffened, but busied myself with locking the office door. 'You're going to move away?'

'No, we're staying here. Ariella's enrolled in a course that's going to last her several years, and I've got a while before I'm likely to move away. Besides,' she added with a smile as she nudged me with her elbow, 'my friends are here. We just think the house is a bit big for the two of us.'

'Well if you need help moving or anything I can give you a hand,'

'Thanks, we might take you up on that. It probably won't be until the new year. So another ten weeks at least.'

We walked back to her place side by side, sometimes in silence, sometimes talking about whatever crossed our minds. She was tired and tense, that much was obvious, but she seemed to be a different girl from the exhausted figure in the detention hall an hour or so before. I didn't really know how grief worked, or what to expect, but I hoped that she was starting to come to terms with what had happened. There were two ways that Ingrid could go, and at the moment she was walking the knife edge that separated recovery from despair. I desperatley wanted to see her make steps to returning to her old self, and a tiny, hopeful part of me though that maybe she already had.

I opened my mouth to speak, but closed it again, not wanting to bring up the question that had been lurking on my mind. I needed to ask her about Harris, but there never seemed to be a good time. Unfortunately this time she had seen my hesitancy, and her curiosity got the better of her.

'What is it, Fillmore?' she asked softly, taking my hand and pulling me to a halt. 'You were going to say something, what was it?'

'It can wait. You don't need to talk about it right now,' I mumbled, looking at the sidewalk beneath my feet, rather than at her face.

'Why don't you just ask? If I don't want to answer, then I won't.'

I drew in a deep breath, and ploughed ahead. 'When Harris broke your ribs, was that all he did?'

'I thought you read the file,' she replied, a trace of annoyance in her voice.

'You might not have told anyone about it. The report didn't exactly say much.'

Ingrid squeezed my hand in reassurance before taking a deep breath. 'All Harris did when I was eleven was punch me. He broke some bones and gave me bruises, but didn't,' she paused and bit her lip, 'didn't rape me or anything. Now though, I wouldn't put it past him.'

I stopped and took her shoulders, pulling her around to face me. 'By the lockers – he – he didn't -' I stammered, unable to get my words out through the cloud of anger and panic that had washed over me in those few frozen seconds.

'No! No, Fillmore. He was getting too close for comfort, and maybe if it had been in a quiet place he would have tried, but it was in the middle of school. Harris may be criminal, but he's not stupid.' Ingrid shook her head forcefully, but maintained her eye contact. 'If he had I would have told you, and the police.'

I lowered my head and let her go, feeling relief weaken my knees.

'This is really getting to you, isn't it?' Ingrid asked softly, her slender hands cupping my chin and pulling my gaze up to hers. 'Ever since that meeting in Folsom's office over a year ago, you've acted a little differently.'

'I just can't stand the thought. What – who could do that to someone?' I asked quietly. 'It gave me nightmares for weeks. I was too late to help you, and there was nothing I could do.'

Ingrid moved closer, and her nearness gave me a bit of strength. Her eyes were deep, dark green and filled with an emotion caught somewhere between love and passion. Her hand was still on my cheek and I realised that she was close enough to touch, to kiss...

I bit my lip to stop myself at the same time that she pulled back slightly, and dropped her hand to her side. It felt like the world came rushing back in, and reality reinserted itself. Reality: where I was strong and unafraid... Except that Ingrid knowing what I was scared of didn't matter. If anything she looked as though she understood.

'I – I'm worried that he's going to catch me out one day,' she confessed quietly. ' I don't think I'm strong enough to fight back. I'm trying not to think about it, because if I do I'll always be looking over my shoulder,' Her right hand rubbing her left forearm in a nervous gesture.

'I suppose all you can do is be careful, and keep your radio on,' I scowled at those pitiful measures. If I had it my way I'd always be there, keeping an eye out for her, but we had separate lives and it just wasn't possible to watch out for someone all the time.

Ingrid had bought her hand to her mouth at my last statement, and I looked at her panicked expression. 'What is it?'

'My radio.'

'Have you left it in the office?'

'No, no it's broken. Harris kicked my bag when he heard Vallejo calling for all officers to attend the scene. It got smashed to bits.'

I pulled my radio off of my belt and handed it to her. 'We'll get you another one tomorrow.'

She nodded in agreement, accepting the little black device as we approached her house. 'Thanks for telling me, Fillmore. Sometimes it helps to know why you behave the way you do.' She smiled as I raised a questioning eyebrow. 'I'd have to be blind not to notice how protective you're being, but I appreciate it.'

'Look out for yourself, Ingrid, and try and get some sleep.'

'Yes, Fillmore.' She rolled her eyes mockingly and bounded up the steps, letting herself into the house before shutting the door behind her.

I sighed, wondering if, on the other side of the door she was feeling the same strange sense of loss that I was. Following my mother's sensible advice was easier said than done. Every fibre of my being wanted to kiss Ingrid, and hold her close and protect her from everything, but I couldn't give into it. Something told me that any relationship with her would be more than just physical, and I didn't want to lose a chance to find out just what it could be by choosing the wrong time to start it.

I had to be patient, but it was getting harder everyday not to give in. I smiled as I thought of what could have happened, and kicked at the leaves that rattled on the sidewalk. Would she have smiled? Would she have kissed me back?

Maybe it couldn't be now, but one day I'd move closer and steal a kiss, rather than pull away and try to keep my distance.

One day couldn't come soon enough.

**End of Chapter Ten**

A/N: Well, since I'm away this weekend, without internet connection i thought I'd get this up for you today. It's probably your last chapter until next sunday, so enjoy it! Thank you, as always, to all reviewers!


	11. Fingerprints

A/N: Back to Ingrid's POV. There is a slight mention of sexual assault in this chapter.

**Shattered**

By: Abellen

Chapter 11: Fingerprints

I closed the front door behind me and leant against it with my eyes closed. My heart was still racing in my chest and my skin was shivering in delight at the memory of his touch. I had nearly kissed Cornelius Fillmore, my crime fighting partner, and my best friend. I was angry with myself, but I couldn't work out why. Was it because I could have ruined a brilliant friendship with my actions, or because I didn't have the courage to go with my instincts and kiss him?

Climbing the stairs I chewed on my bottom lip as I frowned in thought. I wandered into my room and put my school bag down before throwing myself onto the bed. After a second or two I rolled over to face the ceiling, and smiled at the galaxy of stars that greeted me. Ariella had painted the mural for me for my tenth birthday. It wasn't a perfectly accurate depiction, but I had spent hours staring at it since, mapping my future in the painted heavens. I let my eyes wander to the Orion constellation and the bull he was fighting. In my more creative moments I wondered about the lives of the legendary figures traced in the stars, but today I couldn't think of anything but Fillmore.

I had never come across someone who could make me forget my troubles so easily. Normally I would have been furious at getting detention, but instead I'd almost been looking forward to it. He'd let me lean on him and fall asleep. He'd let me keep his jacket… I reached up and rubbed the collar thoughtfully with my thumb, trying to imagine what Danny and Anza would have done. I was pretty sure that, while they were my friends, they wouldn't have been quite so caring.

With a smile I rolled over onto my front again, recalling with perfect clarity Fillmore's face and the look in his eyes. I was almost certain that I hadn't been the only one tempted to steal a kiss, but that tiny doubtful fraction of me spoke loud and clear of its reservations. What if he was just being nice, and taking care of a friend in need? What if I'd read the signals wrong?

'Ingrid, are you home?' Ariella called out from her bedroom and workshop along the hall.

'Yeah, I'm in my room!' A few seconds later a timid knock on the door announced my sister's presence and I smiled as she poked her head around the door.

'Can I come in?

'Yeah.' I eyed her paint smattered face and the gleam of excitement in her eyes. 'Have you started a new painting?'

'It's for fun, rather than work,' Ariella explained, wiping her hands on the denim apron before she sat on the edge of the bed and looked at me carefully. 'You look sort of flushed. Are you okay?'

I felt a blush race up my cheeks and rolled my eyes as Ariella focussed on it like a hawk. 'Oh, a full-blown blush! I wonder who could be the cause of that?' she laughed gently and poked me in the shoulder. 'Am I allowed three guesses?'

'You need three?' I asked jokingly, only to groan when Ariella clapped her hands together.

'It's Fillmore isn't it?'

'Nothing's happened,' I said quietly, getting up to sit cross-legged on the bed. 'It's just silly flirting and, well, things. I don't know, maybe I'm reading him wrong.'

'I don't think so, because I've noticed something there too. He's very - ' Ariella paused to find the right word, 'attentive, and kind of protective.'

'Yeah, well something's been happening at school that's been bothering him a lot, to me I mean.'

Ariella fell serious as I hesitantly told her about the phone calls and the notes. When I mentioned Harris she looked horrified. 'Ingrid, why didn't you tell me sooner?'

'So much has been happening, what with the funeral and everything, and he's done nothing but threaten, and even then it's nothing much.'

'Ingrid! He broke your ribs, and he could do worse this time. I'm calling the Principal. How can she let him back into her school?'

'Ariella, don't. It'll just cause more trouble. At least if he's at school I know where he is. If he gets kicked out I'll be looking over my shoulder all the time.'

'So you're going to wait until he does something bad enough to get himself put in jail? You do realise it'll be you who's the victim? Ingrid, he could rape you. For all you know he could kill you!'

'That's not making me feel better!' I shouted, my voice an exact echo of my mother's when she was angry and frightened.

Ariella quietened immediately and took my hand, squeezing it tight. 'I can't lose you, Ingrid. I'll talk to the Principal about it. If nothing else so that I know they're keeping an eye on him.'

'Please don't cause trouble,'

'I won't, but to be honest I think I appreciate Fillmore being around even more now. You're not to walk home alone, all right?'

I nodded in agreement and looked up in surprise when she got up and rushed to her room before coming back with something in her hand. 'It's just a can of mace, but it might be all you need.'

'Why have you got this?

'It can be bit scary around the college, and Mark can't always walk me home.' It was Ariella's turn to flush and I smiled knowingly before accepting the pepper spray.

'Ingrid, one last thing, and then I won't mention it again. If Harris hurts you, or touches you, or -' she made a choking sound, before continuing in a strained voice, 'rapes you, don't keep it quiet. Tell someone.'

'I will,' I said firmly, trying to reassure her. 'I think that's what scares Fillmore most. He thinks I'll keep quiet about it.'

Ariella nodded and stood up. 'I'm going to phone the Principal, and see if I can get a meeting with her or something. Can you cook dinner?'

'I can give it a shot,' I said dubiously.

'Think of it as organic chemistry, and shout if the kitchen catches fire,' Ariella grinned weakly before disappearing through the door.

I got to my feet and took off the denim jacket. I was wearing one of my black dresses, but it was looking a bit sorry for itself. By the time Halloween came around I'd probably start wearing pants more, for warmth if nothing else. I made my way to the kitchen and grabbed an apron, laughing to myself at the thought of me in a domestic situation. I could clean as well as the next person, but I seemed to have a blind spot when it came to cooking.

Idly I wondered if Fillmore could cook. He probably could. I pictured him in an apron and laughed out loud. The sound was strange coming from my mouth, and I smothered it quickly. It felt wrong to laugh when I should be worried and grieving. I busied myself around the stove, boiling spaghetti and frying minced meat. There were a couple of scary moments when everything seemed to be ready at once, but within half an hour I'd cooked a reasonable dinner and not burnt the house to the ground.

We ate our dinner in front of the television, watching a documentary about the Great Barrier Reef. The evening drew into night and with great reluctance I went to bed. Ariella had bought some herbal sleeping tablets and I took one warily. Not sleeping was one thing, but becoming addicted to sleeping pills wasn't something I wanted to cope with.

I left the bedside light on and let my eyes drift shut, blocking out the muted yellow glow. Gradually I felt my limbs grow heavier and sleep fold around me like a welcoming mother.

I didn't dream about blood and graves, but instead found myself looking at the cheerleaders' locker room again. The tiled floor beneath my feet shone a brilliant white, and the benches were clean and neat. A pair of pom-poms rested by the mirrors and I walked towards it, eyeing my own reflection critically. The red football shirt was in the corner, just as the photographs had shown, and the looked were all closed and graffiti free.

There was a tiny vanity table on which sat a box of tissues and some body spray. Someone had left their sunglasses there, and a school satchel was on the floor beside the chair. It was open, and I could just make out the contents. There was a packed lunch, which consisted mainly of fruit and seeds, a nail file and one slim text. It was blue with the X middle school crest on the spine. The writing stated: _"School Policies."_

The memories crowded in, obscuring the dream entirely. Image after image flew in front of my eyes until one came to rest and I jerked awake with a start as realisation and recognition hit me. The light was still on, and dawn was just breaking on the horizon. I leapt out of bed, not bothering to shower as I changed hurriedly. I swore quietly as I tried to get my boots done up quickly before grabbing my bag, the denim jacket and a few dollars to buy breakfast and lunch.

I hurried down the stairs and scribbled a note to Ariella, telling her I'd gone to school early, before grabbing my keys and making my way out of the door. It was bitterly cold and my breath steamed in the air as I pulled a woolly hat on my head. I strode quickly towards the school and whipped out the photo I had taken with me the day before. I scanned it as I climbed the steps and slipped into the school building. The janitor looked up in surprise and checked the clock, before smiling at my Safety Patrol sash. I bid him a quiet good morning before opening up the office and sitting in my chair. After a moment I reached for a magnifying glass and checked out the vanity table. The body spray and sunglasses were there, as was the bag. I could just about make out a stripe of blue with a silver X on it. I knew where I'd seen that book before. It had been under Rossi's fashion magazines in the library.

Closing the office door behind me again I made my way along the quiet corridors of X. Empty schools always gave me the creeps and I double-checked my belt for the radio as I entered the hallowed silence of the library. During the day it was bustling with quiet activity, but now it was eerily silent. The computer used for checking out the books was on and the monitor cast a glow of light in the gloom. The rising sun didn't shed much light into the library at this time of day, but as I prowled between the shelves I saw a circle of light moving across the floor. It looked like a torch beam and with a gasp I darted in between two bookcases and waited for the person to pass.

My eyebrows shot up in surprise when I saw Tanja Rossi. She was looking at the screen of her cell phone and not paying attention to what was going on around her. She reached up to pull a black hat from her head and ran a hand through her long hair. She was certainly dressed for the part of creeping around school before opening hours. She was wearing in a figure hugging black top and pants. Even her torch, gripped in her perfectly manicured hand, was black. If it had been night she would have been hard to pick out, but in the twilight-like gloom she looked out of place.

I waited until she had passed by and watched her depart. It was suspicious that she was in the library at this time of day, but there was nothing in the rules against it. I padded quietly back the way she had come, looking along each aisle for signs of her presence. It was the last row of shelves that caught my attention. A slim blue volume had been shoved ruthlessly between two history books. There wasn't enough space for it and its spine was slightly cracked from the pressure.

I paused and felt in my bag for my gloves. They weren't perfect, but Rossi hadn't been wearing any gloves at all. The cover was laminated, and there might be some prints left on it. I eased it on the shelf, trying to only touch the edges of the cover. Flicking to the inside page I smiled. The book had never been checked out. If nothing else we could question her about library book theft.

I made my way back to the reception desk and leaned over with care, scanning the barcode of my library card and the book into the computer before stamping the due date. I'd done it a dozen times before, and the librarian suffered it in silence. She would smile and shake her head, but she never shouted at me for it. She had said to me once, "After all, genius heeds not the hours, Miss Third."

I wandered back to the office, holding the book by the top right corner. When I got there I cleared some space on Tehama's desk and picked up the fingerprint dust. It had taken the girl patient hours to teach us how to dust for prints. She was, by far, the best at it, but when she was ill I tended to fill the spot.

I carefully dusted the powder across the surface and scowled at the fuzzy, woven patterns. They were from my gloves, not Rossi's fingerprints. I methodically covered every inch of the book, and was finally rewarded. A perfect fingerprint stood out on the edge closest to the spine. I ruthlessly squashed my hopes. It could be anyone's. There was no point getting excited unless there was a match.

I lifted it carefully with tape and mounted it as Karen had shown me. In a matter of moments I'd pulled Rossi's fingerprint card. Karen had taken all the cheerleaders' prints when their money went missing. I could tell from the slight smudges on the card that Tehama had been less than pleased when printing Rossi.

With a magnifying glass I picked out the defining features and felt a smile spread across my lips. It was a good match. The arch followed the same line, and so did several other distinctive marks. Saying I'd seen Rossi put the book back was one thing, but I had proof that she'd at least touched it.

With a quick glance at the clock I smiled. I still had an hour until lessons would start, and half an hour before Fillmore would get to the stop sign at the bottom of the road. I removed my gloves and sat back in my chair. Propping my boots on the desk I opened the book and began to read.

The book was hardly the most gripping read but I persevered. I had read through most of it by the time Vallejo came into the office, signalling it was time for me to go and wait for Fillmore.

'Third, what are you doing here?' Vallejo asked in surprise.

'Working,' I muttered, not looking up from the book. 'This book was in the cheerleaders locker rooms yesterday, and I saw Rossi putting it back this morning.'

'And?'

'She never checked it out, Vallejo. Why would cheerleaders want a copy of the school policies. There's nothing in here related to cheerleading, except regulation skirt length.'

'Maybe they were checking that then.'

I raised an eyebrow doubtfully before putting the book to one side. 'I'll be back in a few minutes.'

'Ok. Hey, what time did you get here?'

'About quarter to seven.'

'Geez Ingrid, get some breakfast or something. You're no good to half-starved, you know?'

I nodded in reply and made my way outside, stopping only to get a cereal bar from the vending machine. I didn't have to wait long for Fillmore to show up. In fact I'd only just leant back against the pole of the stop sign when he tapped me on the shoulder. He was looking at me disapprovingly with his arms crossed.

'What?' I asked.

'How long have you been at school, Ingrid?'

'A while,' I said evasively, taking a bite of the cereal bar.

'Is that your breakfast?' he asked disbelievingly as I finished off the crunchy concoction and put the wrapper in my pocket.

'I left the house in a hurry,' I replied, licking my fingers. The sight of that seemed to make him uncomfortable and I smothered another smile. 'I worked out what was in the photo by the way. For some reason there as a book of school policies in the changing rooms. I went to get it out of the library and found Rossi sneaking around. I'm pretty sure she took the book without checking it out, and was only just putting it back.'

'Maybe they were checking on the skirt-length regulations.'

'Fillmore!' I growled in exasperation.

Fillmore laughed before raising his hands in surrender. 'Okay, so have you found anything that might tie in with the calls?'

'Nothing yet, but I've not read it all thoroughly. There's got to be some reason she had it.'

'Maybe she just wants to get on the student board or something?'

I shook my head as we began walking back to the school. I couldn't put my finger on it, but there was something about Rossi that set me on edge. Oh, she was annoying and stuck up, but there was a fanaticism about her, a thirst to be known that made me wary. She was the kind of girl unused to getting her way, and I'd seen her ruthlessness with my own eyes. She'd stop at nothing to be remembered, and I had no doubt that she wouldn't let anything or anyone get in her way.

**End of Chapter 11**

A/N: Well it's Sunday, and that means it's time for an update. I think there are definately another nine chapters of this story, and then possibly a sequel. Would you be interested in a sequel that was character, rather than case based? Is there anything you'd like to see in Fillmore fanfiction? Maybe I'll see if I can write some of your ideas into future stories, as a thank you for reviewing :)**  
**


	12. Forsaken

**Shattered**

By: Abellen

Chapter 12: Forsaken

I followed Fillmore back into the office and rolled my eyes at the sight that awaited me. Rossi was there, perched on Fillmore's desk. She had a horrid pout on her lips, but as soon as she saw Fillmore it disappeared and her pretty face lit up. She would have been beautiful if it hadn't been so false.

'Oh, Fillmore! I mean, Officer Fillmore,' she corrected herself with a smile. 'I desperately need your help. There's been another burglary!'

I watched Fillmore's face carefully and noted with some satisfaction that he didn't seem remotely happy to see Rossi. She twittered away at him until he finally relented and, with a despairing look in my direction, followed her out of the door.

'You let him go with her?' Anza asked in surprise from where he sat at his desk. 'You do know they used to date, right?'

'Yeah, he's mentioned it. I don't think it's too much of a conflict of interest. I mean, he wasn't falling all over himself to help her, was he?' I asked.

'Unlike _some_ people,' Tehama added scathingly. She looked frazzled and annoyed, and I winced when I remembered I'd left printing powder all over her desk.

'Funny, I thought you'd have wanted to protect your interests, Ingrid,' Anza said, no doubt watching my face intently.

'What do you mean?' I asked absent-mindedly, trying to tidy up Karen's desk and read at the same time. I knew what was coming and tried to give out a "back-off" vibe, but Anza didn't pick up on it.

'You're terrible at playing dumb. There's something going on between you and Fillmore, and whatever it is, it's mutual.'

'Like you and Karen, you mean?' I retorted without missing a beat.

The office fell silent and I glanced up. Both Anza and Karen were flushed a brilliant crimson. Anza was opening and closing his mouth like a fish but Karen was glaring at me, and I felt a twinge of sorrow at embarrassing her in the process of shutting Anza up.

The bell rang loudly and I made my escape, promising myself that I'd buy Karen some chocolate at lunch as a peace offering. Honestly though, Anza was hardly one to talk if he couldn't notice his own obvious and mutual attraction to Tehama!

I slipped into science and took up my usual seat by the window. As I was unpacking my things I saw Tony walk into the room. He looked paler than usual, and his hair, normally meticulously spiked, was a ruffled chaos of blue and black. His grey eyes found me with no trouble and he made his way over.

'Ingrid, I really need to talk to you. Can you meet me at break?'

'Sure. Are you okay?'

Tony was looking over his shoulder and his gaze returned to mine before he nodded. 'Yeah, yeah I'm good. Just meet me around the back of school, by the old swing-set, okay?'

'Okay, Tony. I'll see you there.'

'Thanks.' He grinned, and I saw a flicker of the carefree young man I'd got used to over the past few days. Something was obviously bothering him and making him edgy. I doubted it was going to be as simple as the upcoming exam day making him nervous.

Someone slammed some books down on their desk and I looked around to see Fillmore scowling at Tony's retreating back. He didn't look happy, and I couldn't work out if it was because of Rossi's pestering, or Monaco's attention to me. His eyes met mine and could see the anger written in every feature of his face. I raised a questioning eyebrow, but couldn't ask him anything because the teacher came in and started pairing us off for our Chemistry experiments.

I winced as Tehama was instructed to pair up with me. She looked thunderous at the idea, and I hastily considered my options. Desperate apologies were the best I could come up with.

She put her things down in silence and tucked her hair up out of the way of the caustic chemicals we were going to use.

'Karen, I'm sorry for what I said earlier. I didn't mean to embarrass you, just Anza.'

'You should have thought about that before you opened your mouth, shouldn't you?'

'Yeah,' I mumbled, bowing my head guiltily.

Karen pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. 'I suppose he did deserve it; it's just a complicated subject. I mean, sometimes I think he really likes me.' She paused, passing me a bottle of acid as the teacher scribbled on the board, 'Other times I'm not so sure.'

'Why don't you just go with it? Ask him out and see what happens.'

Tehama snorted. 'Yeah, right. I'm a traditionalist. If he wants me to go out with him, he can ask me. Otherwise, well, he doesn't know what he's missing does he?'

I nodded in agreement. 'So, am I forgiven?'

Karen looked stern for a moment, before she smiled. 'Yeah, I guess, but only if you answer this question honestly. Is there something going on between you and Fillmore?'

I cringed inwardly, but huffed a resigned breath. Tehama could be discreet when she wanted to be. 'Honestly? I don't know.' I sighed and followed the instructions on the board dexterously, watching the concoction turn the required blue. 'I mean, yes, something is going on, but I don't know what it is.'

Karen gave on satisfied nod, before the pair of us got down to work.

The lesson flew by, but I couldn't get rid of the hot feeling on the back of my neck. I was sure that Fillmore was glaring at me, but I couldn't for the life of me think why. 'Hey Karen, does Fillmore still look angry?'

Karen reached into her pencil case and pulled out a small mirror. She made a show of getting something out of her eye and discretely shifted the focus of the mirror.

'Yes. Funny, he was in a good mood before Rossi dragged him off.'

'Tony was talking to me earlier, but I think Fillmore's angry at me.'

'Have you got any deep, dark secrets that Rossi might have told him?'

'I don't think so.'

'Have you lied to Fillmore for his own protection recently?'

'No…' I mumbled beginning to worry more. 'Tony was talking to me before the start of lessons.'

Karen shook her head. 'No, if it was jealousy he would be glaring at Tony, not you. You've done something he didn't like.'

'What's new?' I asked weakly, picking up our glassware and taking it over to the sink.

I was rinsing a flask out carefully when I became aware of Fillmore's presence. His lips were drawn into a thin line and his eyebrows had fallen into a scowl. 'Why didn't you tell me?'

'Tell you what?' I asked, my mind racing. There were several things that I didn't want Fillmore to know about my past, but none of it was the likely cause of his anger.

'That you used to go out with Harris.'

The flask in my hand slipped and I caught it deftly before piercing Fillmore with the coolest glare I could muster. 'What?'

'No talking at the sink please, move along now,' the teacher called out.

I put the flask down forcefully and turned away, stripping out of the lab coat as I stalked back to the desk. Karen held out a hand in concern but I shook my head and grabbed my bag, storming out of the door just as the bell rang.

I didn't know who to be more furious at: Rossi for undoubtedly feeding Fillmore a load of lies, or Fillmore for believing her. My stomach churned in horror. Maybe Harris was spreading it around that I had gone out with him. The thought made me feel physically unwell. My legs were shaking and a cool, clinging sweat had broken out across my skin.

I pushed open the doors that led out towards the back of the school and gasped as the cold air hit me like a fist. Tony had asked to speak to me, and the prospect of talking to him was more comforting than the one of setting Fillmore straight. It stung that he'd believed it, that he had even begun to think it was true! I gritted my teeth, reminding myself to check my emotions at the door. Feelings weren't logical, and I needed logic if I was going to crack this case.

I made my way to the old swing-set and waited, my eyes focussed on the ground and my thoughts elsewhere. The old, dead grass was littered with cigarette butts. Some of the oldest middle school students smoked around here, and despite our best efforts it was something we couldn't stamp out. If Tony smoked he was good at hiding it. I'd been close enough to him, and I'd never picked up on the telltale tobacco scent.

I looked up at the sound of someone jogging closer and gave Tony a weary smile. 'You wanted to talk to me?'

'Yeah. I got a call from the mysterious female voice this morning.'

'You did?' I leaned forward, giving him my full attention.

'I take it you haven't got one yet?'

'No, but I'm sure it's only a matter of time.'

'They want us to fail the tests on Thursday.'

I frowned in confusion. 'Is that all, they just asked you to fail?'

'No, it's blackmail.' He drew in a sharp breath and I saw him pat his pockets.

'Don't smoke in front of me, Tony, or I'll have to book you.' I felt a sharp stab of disappointment that he could indulge in such a bad habit, but I pushed the thought down.

Tony nodded and clenched his hands into fists, as though to try and control his fidgeting. 'They said they'd make my sister's years at X a misery if I didn't throw the exams. She's only just started! What am I going to do?'

'Tell the Principal, and make an official report,' I instructed him, my mind racing.

'I can't. Don't you see I'm risking so much by just telling you?'

'So you're just going to let them walk all over you?' I asked in disbelief.

'No, I'm telling you so that you can stop it. Please, you've got to! Ingrid, you're the brightest person in this school. I'm pretty sure that your IQ is higher than any teacher here. If you can't discover what's going on then no one can.' He grabbed my hands and held them tight and I smothered a flinch at the desperation of his grip. 'I can't choose between my sister and my future, Ingrid!'

I took a deep breath and shook my head. The Principal needed to know, not to mention the other Safety Patrol members. 'Tony, I can't do this on my own.'

'You've got to, please? If this gets out they'll know that I told someone, and my sister can bid a good life at X goodbye!'

'You really expect me to find out who's doing this, and why, and prove it without any help?' I looked blindly back at the school and gave a jolt when I saw that Fillmore was leaning against the wall. Even at this distance I could see that his arms were crossed. No doubt he could see both Tony and I, and was reading the situation entirely wrong. 'I'll try, but I can't make any promises about not telling other people.'

'Thanks, that's better than nothing.' Tony breathed out a sigh of relief and withdrew his grip on my hands. 'Look, watch yourself okay Ingrid? I don't think these people are just fooling around.'

'Me neither, Tony. Be careful, and Tony?'

'Yeah?.'

'Don't light up until me and my partner have gone inside, and do yourself a favour.'

'What might that be?'

'Quit.'

I turned on my heel and walked away, balling my hands into fists by my side in my efforts to remain calm. Tony was crazy if he thought there was an easy way out of this, and I knew I was crazy for trying to find it for him. I wanted to scream, or kick something. I had that hot, heavy feeling in my mind, which meant I was trying to deal with too much at once. There were so many things demanding my full attention that I felt like butter, spread too thin over a piece of toast.

Fillmore opened the door for me wordlessly and motioned me through. His jaw was clenched and I could see he was trying hard to keep his feelings in check. His anger about Harris had probably just escalated even further at the sight of me with Tony. I felt my own irritation swell as he grabbed my shoulders and spun me to face him.

'What is going on?' he demanded, his eyes fierce as he crowded me into a corner, effectively trapping me. 'First Harris, now Monaco?'

'You don't know what you're talking about. Fillmore.'

'I have eyes, Ingrid. I saw that _touching_ scene outside,' he sneered, his disdain clear. 'Whatever happened about not getting involved in a case?'

'I'm already involved in the case, Fillmore! I received a rose and a threat and a phone call, just like all the other victims!'

'That doesn't mean you can get intimate with Monaco!'

I put my hands on his shoulders and shoved him hard. He stumbled backwards, more out of surprise than as a result of my strength. 'What is between Tony and me is private, and none of your business!'

'I thought you were smarter than this, Ingrid,' Fillmore muttered, his voice heavy with disappointment.

'And I thought you trusted me! It just goes to show how wrong I was!'

'What's to trust? You lied, Third.'

I glared at him with my hands on my hips. I wanted to set him straight about Tony, and Harris, but his belligerence was coming through loud and clear. Right now he didn't want to listen. 'Why don't you ask for the truth when you're ready to hear it? Goodbye, Fillmore.'

I slipped around him and walked away, moving blindly towards the office. I felt tears of frustration and distress well up in my eyes. Behind me I heard him punch the lockers in anger and swear softly. I picked up my pace and finally made it to the sanctuary of the office. The desks were thankfully empty and with a glance at the clock I realised lessons were going to start in a few moments. I was about to make my way to class when the phone on my desk rang shrilly.

My stomach gave a tingling jolt and I took a deep breath before picking up the receiver and hitting on the record button on the answering machine. 'Hello?'

'Miss Third, what a pleasure to hear your voice,' the husky, disguised voice murmured, sending chills down my spine. 'You will throw the exams on Thursday. Ensure that you do not pass, even by accident.'

'Or what?'

The voice laughed and the answer turned my blood to ice. 'We have been restraining someone who is quite desperate to get to know you better. We suggest that you don't tell anyone in authority, or we will punish you regardless of the outcome of the exams. Fail, Miss Third, or we will let Michael Harris have exactly what he wants. You.'

The line disconnected and the receiver slipped from my numb fingers. My heart thudded heavily in my ears and I felt the blood rush from my head. The room spun and my stomach coiled with greasy nausea. I leapt over my bag and raced to the bathroom, only just making it to the sinks before losing the pitiful remnants of my breakfast.

I bent over, my face pressed against the cool porcelain as I gasped for air. I had two days to find out who was behind this and put a stop to it, and I knew I had to try and do it alone.

I was doomed.

**End of Chapter 12 **

A/N: Fillmore's mood change will be better explained in the next chapter, when we return to his point of view. Is Ingrid going to be able to stop the blackmailers, or will she have to throw the exams to save herself from Harris' clutches? As for the early update (just over 24 hours later no less!) Consider it a Halloween present!


	13. Fury

**Shattered**

By: Abellen

Chapter Thirteen: Fury

How could I have been so stupid? I shook my head bitterly to myself as I sat in history class waiting for the teacher to arrive. How could I have been such a fool? Rossi had let it slip in conversation that Ingrid has used to go out with Harris. At first I had just laughed in disbelief and told her she was mistaken, but the more I thought about it the more it began to make sense. Ingrid was protecting him, and that was why. I had never felt so betrayed.

It was in the media almost every day how beaten wives stayed with their violent husbands, either out of devotion or because they had nowhere else to go. It was clear that love messed with people's perceptions. A year ago I would have seen Ingrid's actions for what they were, rather than ignoring the obvious. I scowled more ferociously when I realised I'd just admitted that I loved Ingrid, or at least cared for her more than I should. Normally Ingrid would report anyone who laid a hand on her, but he had broken a stitch and made her bleed and she'd claimed it was an accident! I huffed in disbelief and slouched lower in my chair.

Then there was Monaco. That I should have seen from the start. I had seen the way he looked at her, and I'd just ignored it. I'd thought she wasn't interested. Then I find her holding his hands in a secluded, quiet spot of the school. For all I knew they'd been kissing a moment before, and I'd only just missed it! I seethed as jealousy and pain surged in my chest. I'd started to think that Ingrid cared about me as more than a friend. I guess it just went to show how stupid I'd been.

The teacher walked in and set her books down before she began to call the register. I looked at the clock and scowled, feeling the familiar sick anxiety creeping up on me. Ingrid didn't miss class, and she was already late. The teacher looked up when no one answered Ingrid's name. She shook her head in concern and made a mark on the roll call before continuing, and I saw Anza and Tehama share a worried glance.

We were supposed to carry on with a research project on the civil war, and after ten minutes we were released to the library with the teacher's supervision. Anza and Tehama came my way and I held up a hand to ward off their questions. 'I don't know where she is. I saw her about ten minutes before class. She must have got held up somewhere.'

'Maybe it's Harris?' Anza asked quietly, his face pale.

'Yeah,' I bit my lip in concern, 'but she hasn't exactly been truthful about that.'

'What?' Karen asked, looking up from the book in her hands.

'She used to go out with him. Who knows what else she hasn't told us,' I mumbled, scowling unseeingly at the shelves.

'Did Ingrid tell you that?' Karen asked dubiously, pursing her lips.

'No, but she hasn't denied it either.'

'Well, who told you?'

'Tanja Rossi.'

Karen gave a short, mirthless laugh and shook her head. 'You believed what that viper said? I bet you didn't even give Ingrid a chance to deny it, did you?'

'She had plenty of chances!' I protested, but the look on my face must've given away my uncertainty.

'But would you have listened or believed her if she did? Why are you so set on thinking the worst?' Karen asked.

'Because it makes sense,' Anza interrupted quietly. 'If she used to go out with him, and maybe still has feelings for him then it explains why she was protecting him.'

'Exactly.'

Tehama slammed the book back on the shelf, earning herself a disapproving glare from the librarian. 'Are you two out of your minds? Ingrid doesn't care about Harris! When you mention someone she has feelings for she gets a mischievous little grin on her face and flushes slightly.' Karen gave me a knowing look before she continued, 'If you mention Harris she looks horrified and ill. She probably didn't want to tell Folsom about him because he threatened her or something. She is frightened of him and what he might do to her. She would never have gone out with him, and if she did she would have been honest. You know Ingrid, she's honourable.'

'Not honourable enough to resist getting involved with a case,' I said quietly. Karen may have provided a reasonable argument over Harris, but that still left the issue of Tony Monaco. 'I saw her and Tony together.'

Karen bit her lip, her eyes widening in uncertainty. 'What exactly did you see?'

'They were talking, but he had both her hands in his. They looked pretty close.'

'Did you jump on her about that too?' Karen asked, wincing when I nodded in agreement. 'So let me get this straight. Firstly you accused her of lying to you, and once going out with a guy who broke her ribs and is now making her life a misery. Then you saw her in a slightly intimate situation and didn't stop to ask questions, but shouted at her for getting involved?'

'You blew it,' Anza said, shaking his head. 'She's never going to speak to you again.'

'That's no loss,' I said harshly, shoving my hands in my pockets and staring at the carpet.

'Fillmore, you don't mean that,' Anza said quietly. 'If nothing else don't you owe it to your friendship to let her have her say? Maybe Rossi lied about Harris, and the Monaco thing is just a big misunderstanding.'

'The most important thing is finding out if she's all right. Ingrid never misses class without a good reason. Fillmore, what if something bad is going down and you've left her to deal with it by herself?' Karen asked quietly. 'Go find her and make sure she's all right.'

'Maybe one of you two should go,' I suggested.

'No, Fillmore, you're on your own. Radio in if you need help,' Anza said firmly. 'Maybe you're right to be angry at her, but at least give her a chance to defend herself.'

Grudgingly I did as I was told. My pride still stung, and I wasn't quite ready to believe that my doubts and suspicions were as baseless as Karen suggested, but between her and Anza they'd hit on the truth. Ingrid was my best friend. She had proven time and again that she could be there for me when I needed her, and I couldn't throw that away. Maybe that's why the thought of her deceiving me hurt so much. I couldn't bring myself to acknowledge that maybe she didn't trust me enough to tell me everything.

The teacher nodded her consent when I asked if I could go and look for Ingrid, and without hesitation I made my way to the Safety Patrol office. It was a long acknowledged hiding place for each and every one of us. There wasn't anyone with a badge who hadn't hid in here at one point or another.

The door was unlocked and I peered inside. Empty desks filled the space, and there was no sound but the hum of the computer and a persistent buzzing. Ingrid knew better than to leave the office unlocked; it called all our evidence into suspicion for one thing. The phone receiver was on the floor and I picked it up cautiously, listening to the dull dial tone at the other end before placing it back on the hook.

Ingrid's bag was beside her desk and I groaned when I saw her radio, well, my radio, sticking out of the top. Wherever she was she couldn't have gone far. There were no signs of a struggle, and nothing to suggest that she'd been taken by force. The question was, if she'd left the office willingly what could have made her forget to lock the door?

I looked up when the door opened and Ingrid walked in with a bottle of water clutched in her hand. She was normally pale, almost ivory-skinned, but now she looked slightly blue and she was shivering fitfully. She jumped backwards when she saw me and collided painfully with the filing cabinet.

'Geez, Fillmore! What are you trying to do, give me a heart attack?'

'Sorry.' I'd reached out to steady her, and she looked at my upturned palm like it was poisonous. 'I just came to see why you weren't in class.'

'I – um,' she frowned and turned away, rubbing a hand across her forehead. 'I'm not feeling too well.'

'Is it your head?'

'No, I think it must've been something I ate.'

I rolled my eyes at the barefaced lie. She didn't sound very convinced of it herself. I watched as she sagged into her chair and stared at her feet.

'Why are you lying to me?' I asked quietly. The hurt I'd been trying to hide came through in those words and she screwed up her eyes tight. 'Don't you trust me at all?'

'Of course I do, it's just there are some things I can't tell you!'

'Why, what's stopping you?'

'Several things, and I can't tell you about any of them.' She pressed her fingertips to her forehead as though she were trying to get a firmer grip on her thoughts. Eventually she looked up at me with determined eyes. 'Please Fillmore; you have to believe me when I say that I never went out with Harris. The very thought…' she trailed off, looking ill.

I sighed heavily and gave a curt nod, before another sharp stab of jealousy reminded me of the other reason for my anger. 'What about Monaco?'

Ingrid gave a mirthless chuckle and shook her head. 'We were just talking. He's concerned about the exams and he was asking me to do him a favour.'

'He was holding your hands!'

'Why does that bother you so much, Fillmore? He's a very physical person. It didn't mean anything, and it would have been rude to pull away.'

'Ingrid, I've seen the way he looks at you. Even Tehama's noticed that he seems to see you as more than just someone to help him with his homework!'

Ingrid took a large swig from the bottle of water and froze suddenly, staring at something on her desk. I tried to follow her line of sight, but I couldn't work out what had caught her attention. In a split second she tore her gaze away and shook her head again. 'Fillmore, I don't see what Tehama thinks is there. Besides, it doesn't matter what Tony thinks of me. I wouldn't get involved with him, and not just because he's a victim in this case. I just don't see him that way. He's just Tony.'

I looked at her face intently, trying to glean the truth from her expression. I could tell that, in this at least, Ingrid wasn't lying. I sighed and hung my head, feeling hot with shame. I had over-reacted, and I'd done it in the worst way possible.

I moved from where I was leaning against my desk and crouched down in front of her. 'Ingrid, I'm sorry for not listening to you earlier, and leaping to conclusions. It just feels like you're not being totally straight with me, and I'm left to fill in the gaps,' I sighed regretfully. 'I know I'm getting things wrong, but…'

Ingrid reached out and put her fingertips to my lips, effectively silencing my apology that was rapidly heading towards another accusation. She smiled weakly before taking hold of my hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. 'I'm sorry I hurt you, Fillmore. Believe me, as soon as I can I'll tell you everything. It's just not possible right now.' She glanced at the clock and her face twisted into a grimace. 'You'd better get back to class. Can you tell the teacher that I'm a bit unwell?'

'Yeah, sure. Do you want me to get anything for you?'

'No, I'll be okay, thanks.'

I got up to leave, but stopped at the door and looked over my shoulder. She had opened the blue book again and was reading it intently. Her hair swung down in a thick swathe of black and she reached up to tuck it behind her ear. 'Ingrid?'

She looked up, and I could see why Harris was fixated on her eyes. They really were beautiful, even when I was still a bit angry with her. 'If you're in any danger, you will tell someone won't you? A grown up I mean.'

She stared at me for a moment before nodding in agreement. 'Of course, Fillmore.'

I turned away, shutting the door behind me and letting my shoulders slump. Distantly I heard Ingrid get up, and the evidence drawer open and close. She was working on something, but this case was different. At some point it had stopped being ours, and had become hers.

I wandered along the corridor, in no hurry to get back to class, trying to put together the pieces of the puzzle. It seemed almost unbelievable that it was only just over a week ago that Ingrid had been involved in the car-crash, and only a handful of days since she'd buried her parents. Those events would be earth shattering to anyone, but they seemed eclipsed by the things happening at school. Ingrid had struggled with her priorities, torn between solving the puzzles of the present and laying the past to rest. It was obvious that, while she had physically dealt with things, mentally she was off balance.

I thought back to the beginning. It had started with a rose on her doorstep and a note slipped under the office door. Before long it had become clear that the top five students at X middle school were the targets, but why had they stopped at those five? As far as I knew nothing else had been heard from the callers. At the same time over sixty dollars had been stolen from the cheerleaders' cash box. I was with Tehama on that one; it had all the trademarks of an inside job, but progress had been slow. I didn't know if the two cases were linked, and if they were I couldn't see how one was relevant to another.

I looked up when someone tapped my shoulder, and I realised that I'd reached the library. Anza and Tehama were standing in front of me, both trying to read the expression on my face.

'Well?' Karen demanded.

'She's all right, just feeling a bit poorly.'

'And what about Harris, and Monaco, did she say anything about that?' Anza asked, watching me intently, the book in his hands ignored.

'She says she never went out with Harris, and isn't with Monaco. She does admit that she's not being entirely truthful though. She said something about…' I trailed off, trying to remember her exact words. 'She was really vague, and said that there were some things she couldn't tell me, and she couldn't tell me what was stopping her either.'

Karen sat down at one of the desks and put her chin on her palm. 'Maybe it's to do with the note and the phone call. I mean it's been very quiet. I would have expected them to make their move by now. Have you heard anything from any of the victims?'

'Nothing,' I replied. 'To be honest I can't even remember the girls' names.'

'I've been thinking about it, and talking it over with Anza. Why would anyone call people and threaten them so vaguely unless they were planning to clarify it all later? If it was bad enough maybe the victims wouldn't tell us. If it was blackmail, or they were in direct risk then they'd keep it quiet.'

'But who's got motive for that kind of thing?' I asked, leaning against one of the bookshelves. 'We don't have a motive or any real suspects. Without a reason for the threats we're in the dark.'

'Well what about revenge?' Anza asked.

'No, they don't seem to have any common enemies, except those below them in the grade listings, and we checked them all out.'

'Did you check their alibis?'

I paused and tried to remember. I'd only spoken to Harris. Ingrid had covered the two suspects, and she'd taken their alibis, but had she checked them?

'I don't know, did you check Harris'?' I asked Anza.

'Yeah, his checked out. What were the names of those suspects and we can see if they stand up or not.'

'Tanja Rossi and Antony Flint.'

'Hmm, that's a recurring name these days,' Karen said softly. 'I'll see what I can find on her.'

'I'll check out the bloke. Maybe there's a false alibi somewhere.'

'Any leads are better than none,' I said, rubbing my palm across my head. 'I'll work on the motive. It's all to do with the top five students. That's important somehow, I'm sure of it.'

'What about Ingrid?' Anza asked carefully.

'She hasn't told us anything, or asked for our help. We're using our own initiative.'

'And if she asks us what we're doing?'

'Tell the truth, Karen. We're solving a case.'

Anza and Karen nodded, both smiling despite the seriousness of the situation. Together we packed up our things and waited for the lesson to end. As the bell rang I felt the hollow, helpless anger fade a little. Whatever was going on with Ingrid she didn't have to do it alone. There was no way I was going to stand by and let her struggle through on her own. I'd help her in whatever way I could.

I just hoped that she had the sense to help herself.

**End of Chapter 13**

A/N: Wow, I'm getting these chapters out fast now. (Thirteen chapters in eight weeks isn't bad!) I have to say this isn't my favourite chapter. Fillmore wasn't being very cooperative! I would love to have an update out on Sunday too, but I'm not sure if I'll manage it. It'll either be Sunday or next Thursday!

As always, thank you so much to my reviewers. In answer to your questions the projected length in this is twenty-one chapters. It's probably going to be more drama than romance from now on BUT the sequel will be mostly about the consequences of this story and the relationship, rather than any major case.


	14. Fruitless

**Shattered**

By: Abellen

Chapter Fourteen: Fruitless

The alarm trilled on my bedside table and I opened one eye wearily. The numbers were fuzzy, but I could just make out the time and I let out a soft groan. I'd been having such a good dream, and the call to prepare myself for the day was definitely unwelcome. I let my eyes drift shut for a few more moments before I braced myself for the cold air waiting beyond my bed.

I hurried through my morning routine and resisted the temptation to linger under the warm spray of the shower. It was only when I was fully dressed for the chill outside that I wandered downstairs to get my breakfast. Dad looked up from the newspaper and smiled, before nudging a cup of steaming hot coffee my way. 'You look like you could do with this. Just don't tell your mother.'

I smiled and took a gulp, feeling the hot drink warm me from the inside out. Mom disapproved of the use of caffeine by teenagers, although she was powerless to do anything but sigh and shake her head in protest.

'Where is she?'

'Still in bed. She's feeling a bit unwell. When's this exam day of yours?'

'Tomorrow,' I said quietly, trying not to grimace. I'd barely spared it a second thought since we were told about it, but now I was starting to feel the pressure. 'It's not going on our permanent record. It's something for the school.'

'Well, try your best anyway. You're bright, Cornelius. I know you can go far.'

'I don't think I'll ever be going as far as Ingrid,' I chuckled, shaking my head ruefully.

'Yes, she is exceptionally bright, isn't she?' Dad smiled, although a little sadly. 'Keep an eye on her, Fillmore. Intelligence isn't everything.'

We sat at the breakfast table in silence. Dad sighed at the grim news that the paper laid out for him, and I ate cereal, my mind dwelling on Ingrid. I still felt the prickle and flare of anger, but that had nearly faded. The hole it had left was rapidly filling with concern and I gave a sigh of annoyance that made my father glance over the top of his paper.

'Kiss her,' he suggested, and I choked on my corn flakes.

'What?'

'Forget what your mother says. Kiss her.'

'Dad!'

My father grinned broadly at my embarrassment. 'I bet she'll kiss you back.'

I smiled at the idea, but shook my head. 'I don't think that'd be a good idea.'

'You don't know until you try.' He glanced at the clock. 'You'd better hurry up or you'll be late.'

'I'm going. Say bye to Mom for me, and tell her I hope she gets better.'

'I will. Have a good day, Cornelius.'

I made my way to school with my hands in my pocket and my breath clouding in the air in front of me. The bitter weather had rolled in over night, and while the sky was a fragile, crystal blue the air was sharp and the wind bitterly cold.

Ingrid was waiting for me by the stop sign, shifting from one foot to the other in an attempt to keep warm. She had a mug of something hot cradled in her hands and took a big gulp as I approached. 'Why didn't you wait inside?'

'It's just a bit chilly, Fillmore. It's not like it's going to kill me!'

'You'll catch a cold.'

'You know that's not true. You can't catch a cold from being cold.'

'Being cold lowers the strength of the immune system and can make you more susceptible to viruses.' I raised an eyebrow at Ingrid's smile. 'What?'

'Wow, you were listening in science!' she said, a trace of sarcasm in her voice.

'I always listen. Well, sort of.'

We made our way into the school, deliberately not speaking of the secrets between us, or the fight we'd had the day before. She took off her hat when we got inside and I shed my scarf and gloves. There was one thing to be said for X middle school, they didn't skimp on the heating.

'Hey Ingrid, I'm going to go and see Folsom before lessons.'

Ingrid looked at me suspiciously, before nodding. 'Okay, Fillmore. Don't be late.' She turned and walked towards the office, and quickly lost herself in the crowds that were beginning to fill the corridor. I didn't have long, but I knew that I had to tell the Principal about my suspicions.

Anza, Tehama and I had not made huge amounts of progress the day before, but both Rossi and Flint's alibis were far from watertight. That alone wasn't enough to prove anything, but I had the feeling that evidence would be hard to come by, particularly if the victims weren't going to talk. All I could do was tell Folsom what we thought was going on, and hope that she could do something to stop it.

As I approached her office I saw that the door was slightly open, and I could hear her stern tones clearly. The conversation was entirely one-sided, so I assumed that she was on the phone.

'The exams are a waste of time. There are better ways to see if the school is meeting targets! No, I'm not trying to cause difficulties, Superintendent, but the children are under enough stress as it is without these additional – no – of course not. Goodbye,Superintendent.'

I heard the phone crash back onto the receiver and winced before knocking quietly.

'Come in.' The Principal raised an eyebrow when she saw me and took a gulp of her coffee before motioning to the seat opposite her. 'Fillmore, what can I do for you?'

I sat down and tried to think of where to start. My hesitancy must have been obvious because hert stern features softened.

'About a week ago the top five students received threatening notes and phone calls from an unknown source. We've reached a dead end on the case because we're waiting for the caller to make their next move.'

The Principal's eyes narrowed and she tapped a manicured nail against her cup. 'It's unlike you to admit that you're having trouble with a case, Officer Fillmore. What aren't you telling me?'

'We think that the next move has been made, and as a result the victims are too scared to come forward and report it.'

The scowl became a thoughtful frown. 'What would make a student not come forward when threatened?'

'Abuse, blackmail… we think it's more serious that a petty crime. Whoever is behind it has enough motivation to take big risks,' I said frankly, trying to drive home to the woman across the desk how concerned I was.

'What about Miss Third? She's the brightest student in the school, so surely she must have received threats as well?' Folsom's eyes softened with pity, no doubt thinking that Ingrid had enough to deal with without trouble at school.

'She's not talking about it. At most we've got her to admit that there is something stopping her from making a report. We don't even know if she's received an additional threat. She is still working on the case, although independently of the rest of us. I think she knows an angle that we don't.'

Folsom turned in her chair and steeped her fingers in front of her. 'Do you have any suspects?'

'Yes, but we've got no concrete evidence against them yet.'

'I can't do anything without evidence, Fillmore.'

I sighed and looked down at the floor. 'Then can you do something about Harris? He's threatened Ingrid physically, if not harmed her.'

The Principal sat upright in her chair and fixed me with an intense gaze. 'Why hasn't Ingrid told me about this?'

'She said it was just threats, and that the harm he did was by accident. It's a typical bully and victim scenario. The victim fears a more violent attack if they tell an adult.'

Folsom shut her eyes for a moment, a grim expression on her face, before she sighed. 'All I can do at this stage is ask Harris' teachers to keep a close eye on his whereabouts. I would never have let him into the school in the first place, but my hand was forced.'

'Is that really all you can do?' I asked in disbelief.

'I'm sorry Fillmore, but until Ingrid comes forward herself, or you can get more evidence there is nothing else I can do in an official capacity. Keep me updated.'

I sighed and turned to leave, disappointed that Folsom hadn't been able to be a bit more forceful. I knew we didn't have enough evidence but, to be honest, we were still clutching at straws. Only one person seemed to have any idea about the case, and she wasn't talking.

I made my way along the hallway and peered around the door to the classroom. Everyone was chatting to each other, laughing and fooling around. There was no teacher in sight.

'Where is she?' I asked Anza.

'Dunno. Maybe she's ill?'

'I hope we don't have Hawthorne again,' Ingrid muttered. She was leaning against Karen's desk and I could see that she was ill at ease. Her whole frame looked stiff, as though she were ready to fight or flee at any moment. Her eyes were either focused on the floor, or darting upwards as a classmate made an unexpected movement.

Carefully I looked around the room, trying to see who else was there. Only Debbie Li, third of the top five students, took English class with us. She was sitting on her own, staring unseeingly at her hands. Just like Ingrid she looked pale and tense. Someone who I didn't recognise nudged her arm, trying to get her attention, but she just smiled vaguely and shook her head.

I sighed and looked around at the clock. There was an unofficial rule at X, no doubt repeated in schools across the globe. If there was no teacher fifteen minutes into the lesson we were to treat it as a study session and do our own thing.

Ingrid had been watching the clock as well, and with a sigh she picked up her stuff. 'I'll be back in the office. I've got work to do.'

'I'll be there in a minute,' I said. 'I'm just going to wait a bit longer. Do you want us to radio you if the teacher shows up?'

'Yeah. I'm not going to hold my breath for it though.'

I watched her go before turning to Anza and Karen. Both of them were looking glum. 'Nothing new?'

'Not a thing. All we can do is chase Rossi and Flint about their alibis,' Anza muttered.

'That's not enough. I'd bet a year's lunch money that the threats have already been made. Li looks like she's having a nervous breakdown.'

'Ingrid's not faring much better,' Karen pointed out. 'I had a thought about her and Monaco last night. What if he was talking to her about the threats? What if he told her about the threat he'd received, and asked her to help him?'

'Then why wouldn't she tell us?'

'She's probably been threatened herself. They'll know she's with the Safety Patrol, and they'll have made it clear that if she told anyone the consequences would be pretty bad. We're not dealing with some dumb thugs, here. Whoever has set this up has got brains, or they've been planning it for a long, long time.'

'The thing that's bothering me is what could someone threaten Ingrid with?' Anza asked.

'We don't know everything about her. We practically know nothing about what happened before she came here,' Karen replied. 'Perhaps it's something from her past. Some kind of misdemeanour or something?'

'No, that doesn't make sense. Ingrid might be on the good side now, but she's kind of proud of the things she did,' I said.

'That sounds like someone else we know!' Tehama grinned, looking at me in a pointed way.

'Hey, I'm not proud of it. I just learned a few useful skills, that's all,' I replied. 'Like how to pick locks.'

'So you don't think Ingrid would be fazed by anyone spreading stories about her past?'

'No, she'd just shrug it off. It's something more physical…' I froze as a thought erupted in my brain.

'What is it, Fillmore?' Anza asked, a bright look in his eye. 'What've you just thought of?'

'When Harris bust the stitches on Ingrid forehead, who was it that put in the call of Officer in trouble? It wasn't Ingrid, because Harris was too close, and he smashed her radio to bits when he heard Vallejo's voice.'

'The hallways were empty. There are just loads of science labs around those lockers,' Anza added.

'But someone must have seen it.'

'I don't see what this has got to do with the case,' Karen sighed, shaking her head and brushing strands of pink hair from her eyes.

'It could be everything to do with it. We need to find out who called into the office.' I grabbed my bag and left the classroom, leaving Anza and Tehama to catch up.

The halls were deserted and I quickly pulled my sash over my head. If you were in the halls during lessons without a pass the chances were you'd end up in detention, but the sash did have some advantages. No one questioned the three of us and in a moment we were in the office. Ingrid wasn't at her desk, and Anza and I exchanged a worried glance.

'Do you want me to check the bathroom?' Karen asked.

'Yeah. I'll see if I can find out from Vallejo who made that call.'

I knocked on Vallejo's office door, expecting no reply. Normally the Junior Commissioner had lessons, but today I was in luck.

'Come in.'

Vallejo sat at his desk with books open all around him. He'd obviously been studying for the exams tomorrow, and he was scowling ferociously at a math problem.

'What is it, Fillmore?'

'When Harris was going for Ingrid in the science corridor, who called into the office? Was it on the radio?'

'No, it was on an internal phone line. Why?

'Was it a boy or a girl?' I asked, not bothering to answer his question.

'It was a girl's voice. She was quite well-spoken, and she was probably wearing earrings.' At my curious look he said, 'they were clanking against the phone as she spoke. Does it matter?'

'It might do. Is that all you can remember?'

'Yeah, but hang on…' Vallejo pulled out a logbook and flicked through the pages before finding the relevant entry. 'The extension number was four-seven-two-zero. That means the call came in from room eleven.'

'Got it.'

'Hey Fillmore, don't you have lessons?'

'The teacher didn't show, man. What about you?'

'Officially, it's a study-session. Unofficially I'm keeping half an eye on Ingrid. Folsom's orders.'

I smiled and took the bit of paper with the room details on it. 'Glad Folsom's doing something.'

'Yeah, well I can't do much. Besides, you know what Ingrid gets like sometimes.'

'Do you know where she went?' I jerked my thumb towards the empty desk and Vallejo sighed. 'No, my instructions were to watch her while she's in the office. I can't start tailing her through the school,' the Junior Commissioner looked back at his math problem before glancing up with a grin. 'That's your job, unofficially I mean.'

'I'll see what I can do.'

I left the tiny office and motioned to Anza. 'We're going to room eleven. We'll see if anyone saw anything at Thursday lunchtime.' I picked up my new radio from the desk and spoke into the receiver. 'Hey Karen, we'll be in room eleven. Is Ingrid with you?'

'Yeah,' Karen replied, her voice quiet. 'We're in the library. Let me know if you find anything interesting.'

'Sure.'

It took a few minutes for Anza and I to find room eleven among the maze of science labs. X was known as the best in the state for science, and it showed in every gleaming white room. 'Look at the size of the windows. Someone would have a great view of Ingrid's locker. Maybe we should get Tehama to dust the phone for prints. I mean, how often does anyone use it?' Anza asked.

'I don't think we'll have much luck. They clean these rooms from top to bottom every night. The university shares the facilities, and they're very picky about contamination.'

'How do you know that?'

'Ingrid of course. She was doing a class in microbiology after school a few months ago,' I replied, peering around the door to the teacher's office.

Mr Fillps was reading over a research paper and he looked up absent-mindedly when I knocked on the door.

'Sorry boys, there's no class for another hour.'

'Mr Fillps, we're from the Safety Patrol. Is it okay if we ask you some questions?'

'Hmmmm? Oh of course, of course. Sit down. It won't take long will it, because I've got to plate out some cells in ten minutes.'

'It shouldn't take that long, sir. We just want to know if anyone was authorised to use this lab at Thursday lunch time?'

Mr Fillps tapped a pencil against his lips thoughtfully before he picked up a file and flicked through it. He sighed and rolled his eyes. 'Yes they were. I keep telling the lab assistants not to authorise without my permission. Unfortunately they're young men, and they seem to lose all sense if a young lady flutters her eyelashes. A Miss Tanja Rossi was using the labs at that time. Pretty girl, quite bright, but nothing to shout about.'

Anza was scribbling in his notepad, and I noticed the small smile of success on his face. The teacher cleared his throat and said, 'Actually, officers, your arrival is quite timely. We've had a theft. A bottle of ethanol, and another one of chloride have gone missing. We are obviously quite concerned, since if any young students decided to drink the ethanol it could be potentially fatal. We've informed the police of course, but they're uninterested to say the least.'

'We'll send our photographer and forensics to the scene at lunch, Mr Fillps. Is there anything particular that could be made out of ethanol and chloride?'

'Nothing springs to mind, but in the hands of the untutored it could be very dangerous.'

'We'll get on it as soon as we can.'

'Thank you young man, I appreciate it.'

He closed his office door behind us and Anza shut his notebook decisively. 'It's got to be Rossi, hasn't it? She's turning up everywhere!'

'Where's the proof?'

'Oh come on, Fillmore!'

'I'm serious, Anza. Yeah, it's suspicious that she seems to be up to her neck in everything, but at best we've got circumstantial evidence. We still don't have any motive.'

'Is it worth giving what we've got to Ingrid? I mean, she didn't ask us to help her, but maybe what we've found will be enough for her to crack the case.'

'What have we found exactly?' I asked, trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle together in my head.

Anza took a deep breath and flicked through his notepad. 'Two callers threatening the brightest students. Second threat's still unknown. Um, two petty thefts. Some chemicals missing and some money for the cheerleaders place.'

'That might not be connected.'

'But it could be. We shouldn't rule it out,' Anza said. 'Then we've got Rossi, who's fingerprints were on the cash box at the cheerleaders' and who put in the call to Safety Patrol about Ingrid… although I still don't see what that's got to do with anything.'

'It's just a theory, and it's probably not even true,' I said dismissively.

'So you're not going to tell me about it?'

'No.'

'Fine. We also know that her alibi, along with Flint's has a few holes in it,' Anza shut the notebook again and shook his head. 'Fillmore, we've only got half the picture. I'll bet that Ingrid's got the other half.'

I nodded in agreement and took the notebook from his unresisting hand. 'I'll give this to her.'

'Hey, Fillmore, she'd tell someone, wouldn't she? I mean if it was really serious.'

'I used to think she would, but now I'm not so sure.'

The office was empty when we returned and Anza busied himself with the paperwork that littered his desk. I tried to concentrate on schoolwork, but found my attention wandering to Ingrid's empty chair. For some reason I couldn't get rid of the feeling that something bad was about to happen. If someone were desperate enough to risk so much with this blackmailing scheme, would they think twice about exacting a painful revenge on the person who finally caught them out? The people involved couldn't be older than fourteen, but you still heard of teenagers so driven that they committed the most terrible crimes. If they were left with nothing to lose would they stop at broken bones?

I shook my head ruthlessly and grabbed the notebook. I had to find Ingrid.. She was mine, and I wasn't about to let anyone hurt her.

**End of Chapter Fourteen**

Author's Notes: As always a huge "Thank you!" goes out to everyone who's reviewed. It's thos encouraging comments that drive me to write the next chapter even faster. **  
**There are probably another seven chapters to go, and I shall try and get them all posted before I go abroad on December 14th. Oh and I still need a title for the sequel, and a letter to start the chapters with. Any ideas?


	15. Foes

**Shattered**

By: Abellen

Chapter Fifteen: Foes

I ran a hand through my hair and looked up at Tehama; she was sitting opposite me, supposedly studying French vocabulary. She'd tracked me down in the girls' bathroom, and had stuck with me ever since. I would have had to be blind, or at least unreasonably self-absorbed not to notice what Fillmore was up to. Without a doubt he was working on the case as well, and Anza and Karen had either volunteered to help, or had been recruited.

I turned back to the book I was reading, hoping that they'd had more luck than me. I had nailed the motive late last night, when I should have been sleeping, and while I suspected that Rossi was involved I couldn't really prove anything. I smiled briefly when I remembered the rush of excited relief I had felt when I worked out the reason behind the whole horrible scheme. It had faded swiftly, though, leaving behind it a gnawing dread when I realised I couldn't make any charges.

Whoever was doing this was doing it for the money, and it was all based on the upcoming exams. While the tests meant nothing to the student record they directly influenced the school's standing and its budget. If the top five students in the scholarship fund failed to meet expected grades then the money would be re-allocated to a different topic area. One of those was sport, and I instantly thought of the newest cheerleader on the squad. Miss Tanja Rossi.

The brunette hadn't seemed too fussed about their lack of funding, but if someone wanted to stir up bad feeling about the lack of school support all they would have to do is cut off the cheerleaders' alternative funding. The thefts had left them without a dime, and I knew that Tanja would be saying how great it would be if they got a cut of the budget.

However, there was still the accomplice to account for, and a lot of unanswered questions. Like who had the power to hold Harris back if I did as they demanded? From what I knew he wasn't the kind to take orders from anyone. If it was Rossi I wondered how she had managed to control him, rather than getting a punch or two. I definitely had her prints on the book, which suggested that she had read it, and her prints were also present in the cash box, although there was nothing suspicious about that in itself. It was all so circumstantial, and that made it even worse.

It was hardly easy fulfilling my promise to Tony without drawing suspicion to myself. Every time I asked a question, or stuck my nose in where it didn't, strictly speaking, belong I imaged the feel of Harris' hot breath on my face and his rough hands on my body... I balked at the idea and shook my head viciously to clear the thought away.

When Fillmore had been in the office yesterday, finally listening to the truth I'd realised that the answering machine tape with the second threat on had still been in the machine, and the red message light had been flashing fast. I was amazed that Fillmore hadn't noticed it immediately. I guess he'd had other things on his mind. As soon as he left I'd taken it out of the machine and put it in the evidence drawer. If someone was looking for it they'd find it, but it wasn't immediately noticeable.

I winced when I thought of the promises that I'd broken to Ariella, Fillmore and even myself. I'd promised both of them so easily that I would tell an adult if the threats continued, particularly if Harris was involved. Instead I was keeping it to myself, and living in a world of terrible fear. Harris was lurking around every corner and behind every door. I was desperate to tell someone, and to place the problem on someone else's shoulders, but I was still clinging to the vague hope that somehow I could prove who was doing it, before it was too late.

'Ingrid, are you ok?' Karen asked quietly, touching my forearm to draw my attention back to the real world and away from the horrors of my imagination.

'Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Just thinking.'

'You don't have to hide it from us. Whatever they've threatened you with, people can protect you, right?'

'Did you work that out, or was it Fillmore?' I asked bitterly, my voice not rising above a whisper.

'We know you Ingrid. We know that it would take something serious to stop you telling an adult about it.'

'I can't tell anyone about it, Karen.'

The young woman across the table frowned and her lips plumped into a slight pout. 'I thought you were tough, Ingrid. I thought you were the kind of person who'd never give in to someone else's demands, no matter what the consequences!'

I lowered my head back to the book in front of me, ignoring the fact that the words were blurring with tears. 'You thought wrong.'

'Karen, can you go and help Anza?'

Fillmore's voice caught me by surprise, but I didn't lift my eyes to meet my gaze. Were they taking it in turns to nag me, or something?

'What is it, Fillmore?'

My partner didn't say anything for a moment or two, and eventually I looked up at him. He was sat in the chair that Karen had recently vacated, and his dark eyes were watching me carefully from behind his glasses. His face was entirely unreadable, and I wondered what he was thinking about.

'This might be useful.' He flicked Anza's battered, coffee-stained notebook across the table, making it land neatly on the book I was reading. Hesitantly I picked it up and leafed through it.

'Chlorine and ethanol?' I asked, referring to the bottles stolen from the science lab.

'That might not mean anything,' he said dismissively.

'It was Rossi who put in the call to Vallejo about Harris attacking me. So that's how…' I trailed off, deep in thought.

'Something you want to share with me?'

'No, but I might share it with Principal Folsom. Thanks, Fillmore.'

He drummed his fingers on the table before leaning forward and taking my chin in his hand. The feeling of his strong fingers on my jaw and the pulse point on my neck was enough to send electric shivers down my spine, and my voice wavered unnaturally. 'What is it?'

'What's going on, Ingrid? I don't care that you don't think you can tell me. I want to know what's happening, and if you don't talk to me I'll find out myself.'

'I thought that's what you were doing, or trying to do with Anza and Karen?' I tried to sound angry, but my voice lacked any force, and it came out sounding petty.

'We're partners, and that means sharing information. I've shared what I know with you. Now it's your turn.'

I shut my eyes for a moment, and then shook my head. 'I can't, not right now. Believe me there's a lot more at stake than you think.'

Fillmore grabbed my arm and pulled me away between the bookshelves, before pinning me effectively in place. He had one hand on either side of my head, and was blocking me from moving away. If it was anyone else I would have felt threatened, but when Fillmore did it, it just made me angry.

'I think that you and the other four students have received the second threat,' he hissed quietly. 'I reckon that your moment with Monaco was him asking you for help, and begging you not to tell anyone for fear of the consequences, and now you're doing just that.'

I was about to give an angry response when I noticed someone at the end of the aisle move a bit closer, as though trying to hear what we were saying. Her manicured hands were splayed against the book covers and her face was half-hidden by her hair, but I didn't need to see her face to know that it was Rossi. If she was behind it and she heard what Fillmore was saying…

I thought fast and took a tiny step forward before I pressed my lips against Fillmore's, silencing him easily. For a second he didn't move or respond, but then his hands fell to my waist and he deepened the kiss, dipping his tongue softly past my lips. All thoughts of Rossi fled my mind entirely and I barely heard the squeak of annoyance and the sound of a book snapping shut. I could have just put my hand over his mouth, but this was much _much_ better.

After what could have been second, or could have been hours we broke apart, both of us flushed and breathing harder than normal. My lips tingled deliciously and my knees felt as though they were too weak to support my weight. Fillmore looked utterly dazed, and I carefully kissed him again, this time letting my tongue play across his bottom lip. He made a quiet sound, halfway between a moan and a groan and tightened his grip.

Someone clearing their throat in a pointed way made us jump apart. The librarian was standing close by, tapping her foot impatiently and scowling at the two of us. 'A library is for reading only!' she said pointedly, before turning and marching back to her desk.

Fillmore looked at me, the pleasure on his face giving way to confusion. 'Why did you do that?'

'Well, the first time it was because Rossi was trying to hear what you were saying.'

'Oh,' he said quietly, looking down at the floor.

I wondered if he was trying to hide his disappointment, or if he was relieved. Before I could back out I took a deep breath and said, 'The second time it was because I wanted to.'

This time I saw him trying to smother a smile and grinned sheepishly before squeezing his hand. 'Thanks for the notebook, Fillmore. I'll catch up with you in class, and I promise when this is all over I'll tell you everything.'

'When's that going to be?' he asked softly, the anger from his voice replaced with something close to tenderness.

'Hopefully by tomorrow.'

'So it's something to do with the exams?'

I winced and cursed myself silently. 'Um, maybe.'

Fillmore just nodded, and grabbed my arm before I left. 'Ingrid, I – um – I kissed you back because I wanted to, too.'

I felt the blush race up my cheek and dipped my head, trying to hide the pleasure that gave me. 'Thanks, Fillmore.'

'See you in class?'

'Sure.'

I got my stuff and left the library, trying not to laugh in elation or grin like a fool. It had been an impulsive move, but as it turned out, it was worth it. Well worth it.

I glanced at my watch and picked up my pace. Most of the morning had already gone, and it was only fifteen minutes before the start of afternoon lessons. With any luck I had enough evidence, no matter how circumstantial, to get a report together for Folsom. If she thought the results of the exams were being influenced in anyway, it was within her right to postpone, or even cancel them entirely.

Quickly I ducked into the AV room and grabbed a tape recorder. It was about the size of a small TV remote and I signed it out hurriedly before tucking it in my bag. It was a backup measure that I hoped I wouldn't have to use. If someone decided I was causing too much trouble and decided to take me out of the picture there was a good chance I could get a recorded confession first.

I felt the good feelings fade, and the old worry reinsert itself. I paused for a moment and shut my eyes in the dark room, wishing with ever fibre of my being that I could go back to being a normal girl; a girl with parents, who didn't have to look over her shoulder at every moment for fear of enemies and threats. With a deep sigh I promised myself that once this was over I would do what I wanted to. I'd spend more time with Fillmore, for one thing, and I meant as more than just his partner.

The bell rang for class and I hurried out of the AV room, intent on getting to class before the teacher. I didn't notice a slim figure across the hallway, watching me with narrowed eyes and drumming her long nails on the doorframe.

The young woman dialed a number on her cell-phone and rolled her eyes as an irritable male voice answered.

'What is it, class is about to start.'

'She knows too much. We need to do something.'

'Tomorrow morning,' the boy on the other end said. 'It'll give Harris more time to have his fun before he's discovered.'

'What about the plan?'

'Don't worry. Folsom doesn't have a clue. The exams will go through and the others will fail as instructed. As for Ms Third, well, she'll be indisposed.'

'This better work, Flint.'

'You just keep paying Harris to keep his hands off. Tomorrow morning he'll get his prize, and so will we. Remember your half of the deal, Rossi. I'll remember mine.'

* * *

As soon as lessons ended I made my way to the office and switched the computer on. Writing reports had never been my favourite job, but now I settled down to the task, entirely focused on what I was doing. I didn't hear people coming and going around me, and it was only when Fillmore tapped me on the shoulder that I glanced up from the screen.

'Ingrid, I have to go. My parents are expecting me back for dinner.'

'Oh.' I bit my lip, not liking the idea of walking home alone. 'I have to finish this off tonight. You go on ahead. I'll get Ariella to come and pick me up in a taxi.'

'Are you sure?'

'Yeah. This really can't wait. I promise I won't walk home.' I smiled at him gently, seeing the concern in his eyes. 'I know I'm not very good at keeping promises right now, but I swear I'll get a cab.'

Fillmore hesitated for a moment, as though he were debating whether to call his parents and tell them he'd be late.

'Go on, Fillmore.'

'Okay. I'll call you at eight and make sure you got home all right.'

'Thanks.'

I bit my lip again, but this time it was to resist the temptation to kiss him goodbye. Fillmore saw the little movement and grinned before turning away and departing with one final goodnight. I scowled at Anza and Danny. If they hadn't still been here I would have followed my instincts, but kissing Fillmore in front of them wasn't a good idea. For a start it would lead to questions that neither of us could answer yet.

The minutes ticked by as I laid out the evidence against Rossi. There were still some things I couldn't answer, but there was enough to bring her in for questioning. Perhaps that would reveal her accomplice, and the more intricate details of her scheme.

With a deep breath I hit print and collected together the evidence before slipping it into a manila envelope. I shut the office door behind me and made my way to the group of rooms that were Folsom's domain. The lights were still on, but the corridors were eerily silent and I found myself almost sprinting to the safe refuge of the Principal's office.

Once there I knocked on her door, hoping that it wasn't too late, that she hadn't already gone home.

'Come in.'

I opened the door and slipped around it before approaching the woman's desk. She was sipping an espresso and looking worse for wear, but she gave me a warm smile and motioned for me to have a seat.

'Officer Fillmore came to visit me earlier. Can I assume that you're here to discuss his concerns?'

'Yes Ma'am. There's enough evidence to bring one suspect in for questioning, and you have my written report to show that, at least in the case of Tony Monaco and myself, we have been threatened. They want us to fail the exams tomorrow intentionally.'

The Principal straightened up, her eyes suddenly intense. 'Why?'

'I'm not certain of the motive, but I think it's an attempt to sabotage the scholarship fund. If the top -'

'Five students fail… Yes, Miss Third. I wrote the policies so I know them well. I never thought anyone would try and use them against another student though. I assume they want the funding reallocated?'

'I believe so. Thefts of money from the cheerleaders' club coincide with the threats, perhaps to help the suspect justify what she is doing. If she has the approval of her peers she's less likely to back down.'

The Principal took the envelope and read through the contents in great detail, pausing only to ask me a question. 'You say you were threatened. What was the nature of the threat?'

'I was told I would be physically harmed if I didn't comply.' My voice cracked and I cleared my throat, trying my best not to show my fear.

'Were the threats the same to the other students?'

'I don't think so. They seem to be more targeted. The people threatening us are being specific to each individual.'

Folsom nodded and got to her feet, picking up her jacket from the back of her chair. 'Your persistence in this matter is to your credit, Miss Third. However, you must know that you've put yourself in danger by coming to me?'

'I know,' I whispered softly, feeling the anxiety swamp me again.

'Why didn't you tell me earlier?'

'I didn't really have the chance. I wanted to bring you the evidence so that you could act as soon as possible, rather than leaving time for any revenge on the victims.'

The Principal nodded and turned to face me. 'I will be calling Harris and Rossi to a meeting with me tomorrow, along with their parents. If these allegations are true they will probably be expelled.

'What about the exams?' I asked.

Principal Folsom frowned and reached across the desk to pick up her cell phone. 'I'll have to discuss it with the Superintendent, but in all likelihood the exams will be cancelled. There's no way to tell whether or not other results may have been compromised. Cone along, Miss Third. I'll drive you home.'

The journey was filled with questions from the Principal, some of which I struggled to answer. She frowned at the noticeable gaps in the evidence, but nodded her approval when I pointed out that they could be discovered in questioning. 'I think the students can count themselves lucky that you caught them at this stage. If they had succeeded, and then been caught they would be in a police station, rather than the office of the safety patrol.'

'Will you really expel Harris?' I asked quietly, unsure of whether I liked the idea.

'Yes. I would never have let him back into the school in the first place, but I was forced to by one of the many school councils. It would be for his own good. He obviously requires special attention and education which X middle school cannot provide.'

We pulled up outside my house and I bid her farewell, thanking her quickly before making my way inside. Shortly after Fillmore rang to make sure I got home safe I made my way to bed, kissing Ariella goodnight and leaving her to chat with Mark on the phone. I was exhausted, and fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. For the first time in days, I didn't dream.

Morning came swiftly and the hazy sunlight of dawn opened my eyes. I glanced at the clock and saw that I only had ten minutes before the alarm went off. I stretched luxuriously and stared at my bedroom ceiling, counting the painted galaxies and reading the stories in the stars. It was a relief to wake up and not feel the leaden weight of dread on my heart, or the nervous fear in my stomach. Folsom was dealing with it. There wasn't anything to worry about anymore. It was nearly over.

I got up and showered slowly, reveling in the feeling of the warm shower spray. A smile returned to my lips full force when I remembered kissing Fillmore, and him kissing me back. I shivered in pleasure and laughed quietly to myself. We hadn't talked about where that was going, but it was something I was happy to explore gradually, rather than rush into. I had found out that one, or even two kisses weren't enough. They tended to linger on my mind, and on my lips, which still tingled pleasantly at the memory.

I dressed in my normal black dress and tiptoed past Ariella's room. From the sound of it she was still fast asleep. With no lectures until eleven she didn't get up until well after I'd gone to school. I ate breakfast before putting on my gloves and bracing myself for the cold outside. My breath steamed on the air and goosebumps raced up my arms as I started the walk to school. It was time to put the dress away for the winter, I realized grimly, after today it was jeans until spring.

The trees were ablaze of yellow and orange and I knew in a couple of weeks that would be gone, and winter would be well on its way. The wind played among the branches, liberating leaves from the tree boughs one by one. They crunched under my boots and caught in my hair, and then I thought I heard footsteps behind me.

I turned around, my breath hitching in my throat with fear. For some reason I hadn't thought anything bad could happen to me on the way to school, but what if I was wrong. What if Rossi knew I'd given the evidence to Folsom? What if she'd just decided I was getting to close?

There was no one there.

I turned around and jumped back in fright as I almost collided with someone.

'Good morning, Miss Third.'

'Flint? What are you doing here? You live on the other side of town.'

Flint was standing in front of me, one hand on his hip while he examined his fingernails. His hair was neatly groomed, as always, and his arrogant face was twisted into a half-smile. 'I'm here to tell you how disappointed I am. You just couldn't leave well alone, could you?'

'What are you talking about?' I asked as I backed away, my heart sinking.

'I'm afraid that I outsmarted you, Miss Third. Goodnight.'

A hand clamped a piece of cloth over my mouth and nose and I drew in a deep breath to scream. The sickly sweet scent filled my nostrils and I gagged as my eyes smarted and stung. I felt rough hands on my arms and heard a horribly familiar voice whisper something vile in my ear as the chloroform numbed my mind.

My last feeling before I lost consciousness was one of terror. Harris was getting what he wanted. Me.

**End of Chapter Fifteen**

Author's Note: Sorry to leave you all on such a cliffhanger. The next chapter will be up by Sunday evening, (so Sunday mid-afternoon in the U.S.A) The only idea I've had for the sequel title is "Softly" because it contracts quite well with "Shattered". Thank you to all my reviewers, and readers. You guys are wonderful.**  
**


	16. Flinch

_WARNING: There is some mild to moderate violence and language in this chapter, and sexual assault is heavily implied. There is no graphic detail, but if this theme is likely to cause distress I ask that you skip this chapter and wait for the next one, which should be up either on Sunday or Thursday. This is a chapter that I would personally suggest that anyone of a sensitive nature, or who is thirteen or under, does not read. Please do not flame me as I have handled this subject as tactfully as I am able to. Read ahead at your own risk._

**Shattered**

By: Abellen

Chapter Sixteen: Flinch

I came around slowly, at first only aware of the throbbing in my head and the chokingly sweet smell that lingered in my nostrils. I felt nauseous and shaky, but my common sense over-ruled my instincts to get up, and I lay still. I had to assess the situation, rather than stumbling to my feet and alerting my captors that I was awake. I ignored my terrified heart, thundering helplessly in my chest, and tried to calm the butterflies in my stomach. It would be all right. I could get myself out most situations. I'd be all right.

I found it hard to believe my own reassurances and some subtle tugs, coupled with the stabbing cramps in my shoulders, indicated that my hands were tied behind my back, and my ankles were bound together with what felt like someone's belt. I opened my eyes a fraction and took in my surroundings. A naked bulb glowed overhead, the light made hazy by cobwebs and grime. The floor beneath me was concrete, rough and pitted with age. Old rickety shelves lined the wall I was facing. One or two pieces of sports equipment lay around, including a deflated basketball and a broken hockey stick. That might come in useful as a weapon, if I could get my hands untied.

The air smelled musty, with the faintest trace of that distinct school smell. I shut my eyes again and let my mind work, sorting through image after image to try and deduce where I'd been taken. There were several old, disused equipment sheds at the far end of X's playing field. The hedgerow was steadily claiming the rickety buildings, and from what I could remember the squat buildings were half choked with bracken. They didn't have windows, just one door which was bolted and padlocked from the outside. Perhaps I was there?

I moved my hands slightly and felt the rough fabric of my school bag behind me. Some of my books had spilt out on the floor and I felt around for my radio, hoping against hope that it was still there.

'Looking for this, Miss Third?'

I opened my eyes and saw Flint step forward into the circle of light. He was holding up my radio with a knowing smile. In his other hand were the tape recorder and the can of mace that Ariella had given me. 'Well, we couldn't have you trying to be all heroic now, would we? It would be greatly inconvenient.' He tossed the radio to a larger, shadowy figure and I suppressed a shudder as Harris stepped forward and dropped the radio to the floor, crushing it beneath his foot. The same fate was dealt to the tape recorder and the can of mace was put safely out of reach. Even Harris wasn't stupid enough to try and pierce an aerosol can.

I struggled away slightly, trying to put as much distance between him and me as I could. He remained motionless. I could see that sweat was beading on his forehead and upper lip. His eyes were dark, and looked fiercely hungry. His tongue kept darting out across his lips and I tore my gaze away, unwilling to watch his predatory features anymore. He wouldn't get the chance to touch me, I promised myself.

'Don't you have any questions for me, Miss Third? Or perhaps for the lovely Miss Rossi?' He motioned towards the door where a smaller figure was waiting, apparently uninterested. Her features were mostly hidden in gloom, but I could see her lips were twisted in distaste at the sight of Harris.

'I think I know it all already,' I said quietly. 'At least, I know enough.'

'Oh yes, the precious Safety Patrol officer in you just can't leave a mystery unsolved, can it? That's why you're here. You were poking your charming little nose in where it didn't belong.'

'I didn't know you were involved,' I admitted. 'I hadn't worked out the male accomplice yet.' I bit my lip. Flint might be clever, but he was arrogant. This was probably all his plan, and I doubted that he could resist the chance to boast about it.

Flint laughed and I felt my skin crawl. His voice was hard to match with that which had murmured threats down the phone, but his laugh matched perfectly. He put a hand on his hip and pushed his glasses up his nose. 'Yes, I did rather play you for a fool, didn't I? After all, why would I get involved in a scheme like this? What could possibly be in it for me?'

'The challenge,' I replied, feeling my lips quirk into a small smile despite myself. The glee was gone from Flint's face and a scowl had taken its place. 'It was the challenge of committing a crime and not getting caught. Of being too clever for the Safety Patrol to catch, wasn't it?'

Flint nodded and the smile returned. 'You may have had the intelligence to work out some of the facts of our little plan, but unless I am mistaken I am still the winner. You are tied up on the floor, whereas I have succeeded. The exams will begin in just half an hour, and you will receive no mark. The other four will be so terrified by your absence that they will fail on purpose, and then the scholarship fund will be re-allocated. I will have won the challenge, and Miss Rossi will, of course, be remembered as the popular, intelligent young woman who got the money away from the nerds, and into the more admirable areas of sports and the arts. The funding reallocation will go a long way to getting her the recognition she wants.'

'There are better ways to challenge yourself, and be recognised for your achievements. I don't understand why you had to break the rules.'

'Rules are made to be broken,' Rossi hissed from the doorway. 'There aren't any crimes, there are only opportunities and those too weak to take them.'

I drew in a deep, shaky breath and pushed myself into a sitting position. I realised the skirt of my dress had moved upwards, revealing more of my thigh. Harris' gaze was transfixed and I swallowed again, shutting my eyes for a moment before carrying on, my voice steady. 'Was it you who stole the bottles from the lab, Rossi? Chlorine and ethanol. Mix them together with a few salts and you've got chloroform.'

'You wouldn't have come with us quietly. Besides, we couldn't have you making any noise. It was hard enough finding a time when you weren't with your precious Fillmore. It's a pity.'

'What is?'

Rossi moved forward into the light more. She flicked her long hair over her shoulders and smiled. It was a pretty smile, but vacant of all feeling. I'd hoped that Tanja's swinging hips would distract Harris, but he was still staring at me. Flint was watching Rossi with open admiration, but she seemed to be unaware of it.

'It's tragic that such a talented young man could be attracted to such a plain, boring thing like you. He could have had a dazzling future, with the right connections,' she smirked and retrieved a lip balm from her pocket before lavishing it on her pout.

'He doesn't need you to have a good life,' I retorted, feeling the warmth of anger filling my cold body. 'If he wants it, he'll get it.'

'Yes. He's a bit like me in that respect. He gets his way, no matter what.'

'He doesn't break the rules to do it, at least not anymore.'

Rossi turned away with a shake of her head, refusing to get embroiled in a conversation with me. Instead she spoke to the air in general, as though imparting great wisdom.

'I doubt, Ingrid, that Fillmore will want anything to do with you once Harris is finished. Will he want you after someone else has kissed you? After someone else has touched you? I know Fillmore, and he's the possessive type. He won't be interested in you anymore.' She turned back to face me and plastered a sad expression on her face. 'How unfortunate for you. After all, I know for a fact that you're not even a couple, despite the fact that you were kissing in library. You're definitely not going steady. I guess that'll never happen now.'

I didn't say anything, but I felt my heart sink, and real fear set in. So far I'd been able to keep my calm, but as the minutes went past it was obvious that I couldn't get the rope undone, and no one seemed to be coming to my rescue. It was possible that no one even knew that I was missing.

'I hate to tell you this, Flint, but you've lost,' I said softly. 'I gathered enough evidence on Rossi and her accomplice to give to the Principal. She's either going to postpone the exams, or cancel them all together. She's probably already calling Tanja's parents.'

'What?' Rossi screeched, her beautiful face cracking into a look of fury and fear. 'You bitch!'

'She's bluffing,' Flint spat out, but a sweat was showing on his forehead, and his eyes were darting around in his head. 'Go to the school. If the exams have been cancelled there'll be a notice on the doors.'

'Why me?

'Do what your told!'

I smiled to myself as Tanja fled. She was panicking, and Flint was unsettled. He'd shouted loud enough to send dust cascading down from the old shed roof. The young man wiped a hand across his forehead, leaving a trail of dirt. He took a few calming breaths before giving me a sunny smile. 'Your lies might upset Tanja, but I'm sure you haven't got enough hard evidence against her, or myself. You're an intelligent woman, Miss Third. Smart enough to leave your past behind you when you move schools, that's for certain.'

He paced back and forth in front of me while Harris shifted eagerly, as though desperate to get his hands on me. 'It was hard to find anything to blackmail you with, Ingrid. Very hard indeed. When Harris came to the school we thought it was a blessing. Here was a young man who had, by consensus of the school rumour mill, done you considerable harm in the past. The behaviour of your fellow Safety Patrol officers confirmed that. As soon as they questioned him on his whereabouts I knew that there was something there worth knowing.'

'How did you know?' I asked. 'I was questioning you in the library at the time.'

'I have my contacts, Miss Third. Of course it was purely by chance that Tanja saw him threatening you by the lockers. She'd left the library only moments before and was just preparing to do a bit more lab work when she saw the accident, and the blood on your face. Of course we approached him, and told him what we'd seen. The deal was simple. He was to leave you alone unless we said otherwise, or we would be telling the Principal what we had seen.'

'It was an accident,' I whispered, licking my parched lips. Harris caught the movement and groaned softly. The noise was filled with a repulsive desire and I concentrated wholly on Flint, trying to block Harris from my universe.

'I don't think anyone else would have seen it that way. Unfortunately Harris' sexual attraction to you, at times, seemed too strong for the threat to suppress. In the end it was Tanja's idea to pay him a certain amount for each day. The only thing stronger than lust is greed, Miss Third. Harris was expensive to control…'

'That's why the cheerleaders' money went missing, wasn't it? Rossi's allowance wasn't big enough.'

'Precisely. Your intelligence does you credit, but it's not enough to get you out of this situation.' Flint turned away and headed for the door. 'She's all yours, Harris. Make sure that she knows it would be unwise to speak of what happens here. Be -' Flint paused and turned back to me with a grin on his face, 'forceful on that point.'

I cringed at his words and made a final attempt to appeal to him. 'Flint, stop! I wasn't bluffing about Folsom. She knows about it. Let me go and maybe you won't be punished as badly!'

'Those are words of desperation, Miss Third. Goodbye.'

He opened the door and I saw the soft green grass and open blue sky framed by the doorway. The wind blew in, smelling of autumn and freedom. I was so desperate to be away from here that I felt tears prickle in my eyes, and my breathing started to come in short, frantic gasps. Flint stepped out into the world and closed to the door behind him, leaving me to my fate.

'Are you scared?' Harris asked softly, prowling towards me with an almost tender smile on his face. 'Are you frightened of me?' When I didn't reply he reached forward, wiping a tear from my cheek. I tried to recoil, but I couldn't do more than flinch away from him. 'I like it when you're scared.'

He reached down to my ankles and undid the belt. 'Are you going to be a good girl? If you are I'll untie your hands.'

I took in a deep shuddering breath and tried to get myself under control. I knew that he wanted me, and I knew that I wasn't going to stop fighting him every inch of the way. If he untied my hands I could hit him, punch him and fight back. Like this I was helpless to do anything but scream. Mutely I nodded, trying to appear as docile as possible.

Harris was obviously blinded by his own desire. He didn't seem to suspect guile or cunning. He fumbled with the rope, bringing his body closer to my own and I tried not to pull away in disgust. As soon as my hands were free I'd strike back. All I had to do was make it to the door, and I'd be okay.

The rope slipped away from my wrists, but before I could react Harris had pressed his lips to mine and was plunging his tongue into my mouth. I squeaked in protest, but his hands were still holding my wrists. Instead I reacted the only way I could. I bit down hard on his tongue.

I tasted blood and Harris pulled back with a howl of pain. I sprang to my feet and rushed towards the can of mace. If I could blind him I could get away easily! I screamed as a hand grabbed my hair, pulling me back hard. He threw me against the wall and I cracked my head painfully against the old wood. Stars flickered in front of my eyes and I panted for breath, trying desperately to clear my vision. I cried out again as a fist connected heavily with my left side, forcing me to the floor. A sharp pain arrowed up my side and I tried to suppress my whimpers. I had to get up. I had to get out of here!

'Cow!' Harris spat, still wiping blood from his mouth. 'You can't get away from me!' He pulled back his hand as I stumbled to my feet and smacked me hard across the face. My head hit the wall again, harder this time, and the room swam. I collapsed to the floor, sobbing now, unable to keep a firm grip on consciousness. Harris knelt down next to me, placing kisses on my cheek. I didn't even have the strength to pull away. I felt him begin to lift up my skirt before I lost my battle with unconsciousness, and slipped into a place where I was blissfully unaware of what was happening to me.

* * *

When I came around I thought, for a few heartbeats, that it had just been a nightmare. That I was in my own warm bed and that Harris was nothing but a bully. Gradually the pain infiltrated my mind and I screwed my eyes up tight, trying to deny the reality. I hadn't been able to fight him off.

Tears flowed freely down my face and I jumped back in horror when the same rough hand wiped them away. His fly was still undone and he was sitting not far away, watching me. I struggled away, ignoring the pain that threatened to swamp my senses.

'You can't tell anyone,' Harris said softly, getting to his feet and towering over me. 'It's got to be our secret.'

'You think you can get away with this? You think I won't report you?' I asked, my voice weak and hollow. I straggered to my feet, hanging on to the wall for support as the pain tripled.

'You mustn't say anything,' Harris mumbled, reaching into his pocket and pulling out an object. His eyes were hazy, and a muscle in his face was twitching. He seemed to be speaking as though he were taking instructions from someone else, and I moved along the wall, trying to reach the broken hockey stick.

He made a motion and I froze, my eyes transfixed by the pocketknife in his hand. He had flicked the blade open and it gleamed in the dim light. He held it limply in his hand and began to move towards me, his eyes glazed and distant.

Desperately I lunged for the hockey stick, ignoring the agony and focusing on getting a weapon in my hand. I had to have something to fight back with. I wasn't going to let him hurt me any more!

In that same instant Harris lunged forward, his face contorting into a snarl. My fingers wrapped around the hockey stick and I raised it above my head, only to fall motionless. Harris backed away, his face pale and horrified. I looked down and saw the handle sticking out from my left side. It hadn't hurt going in, but now the delayed message was making its way to my brain.

Instead of fear all I could feel was an incredible anger. I lifted my arm and swung the hockey stick. It hit the side of Harris' head with a sickening crack and he slumped to the floor. I leaned back on the wall, trying to take deep steadying breaths. I didn't care if he was dead. In fact I almost hoped he was.

My knees were shaking fiercely, and my thoughts were losing their logical clarity and becoming distantly hysterical. I toughed the handle with my hand and the agony shot through me again. Blood was soaking into my dress, and I was desperate to take the blade out. Instead I clenched my hand into a fist at my side. If I took it out it would bleed even more. I needed an ambulance, and I needed it soon.

I tried to walk towards the door, but my legs buckled entirely. I collapsed onto my hands and knees, before lowering myself to the floor. I just needed to rest, just for a moment.

Slowly the pain faded away, leaving numbness in its wake. Distantly I wondered if this was dying. It didn't seem so bad. Gradually I let my eyelids flutter shut and hoped that someone, somewhere was looking for me. A solitary tear rolled down my cheek. It hit the unforgiving concrete and shattered into tiny droplets before it faded from sight. My breathing began to rasp in my throat and all I could do was concentrate on hanging on to life. I wouldn't die here, bruised and beaten. I couldn't.

I didn't let myself consider that I might not have a choice.

**End of Chapter Sixteen**

A/N: I'm really sorry for leaving it at this point. There will be an update either Sunday or Thursday. I'm also sorry for any typos, but I hadn't even started this chapter three hours ago! I thought you would all like a quick update. As always thank you to all reviewers, but please, no "I hate you's" or anything. I'm sensitive! 


	17. Fight

**Shattered**

By: Abellen

Chapter Seventeen: Fight

She'd kissed me. It was nearly twenty four hours later, and I was still thinking about it. I didn't care that the morning was going to full of exams, and I didn't care that I hadn't studied as much as I should have. All I cared about was the fact that Ingrid had kissed me because she wanted to. All I could think about was how good it would feel to kiss her again.

Mom had known something had happened as soon as I walked in the door at home. Dad had just grinned and nodded, while Mom seemed torn between being stern and being thrilled. I grinned again and scuffed my feet through the leaves that littered the sidewalk, but it didn't take long for the grin to fade.

It was easy to forget that Ingrid had lost her parents, and that she was being threatened at school. It was difficult to remember that a kiss didn't really mean anything, except that she liked me in that way. A kiss didn't mean that she was safe, or even that she was happy. I'd be glad when today was over. I still didn't know how this was tied into the exams, but Ingrid had hinted that it was. I hadn't been able to get her to talk about it on the phone, but at least she'd got home all right last night, and she'd given her report to Folsom.

Maybe by the end of today it would be over, and life could go back to normal, or as normal as it could be.

I leant against the pole of the stop sign and looked at my watch. I'd had experience of Ingrid on exam days before, and it wasn't one I enjoyed. While most kids got worked up and let it out by being boisterous and noisy, Ingrid tended to fold in on herself. She was normally in the office an hour or more before the start, up to her eyes in books. She could already be in the school, but I decided to wait for five more minutes, just in case.

'Hey, Fillmore!'

I looked towards the school and saw Anza and Danny walking towards me. Danny was looking smug, and Anza was grinning like a fool.

'What's up?'

'We heard this amazing rumour on the bus, and we thought we'd check it out and see if it was true,' Danny said.

'Probably not,' I muttered, trying to school my features into something resembling a neutral expression.

'We heard that you were seen kissing Ingrid in the library, and not just little kisses either,' Anza nudged me with his elbow meaningfully.

'Where'd you hear that?'

'Vanessa Colson said that she and a friend of hers saw you. She asked us if you were a couple!' Danny replied, excitement bubbling in his voice.

'So?' Anza asked.

'So what?' I grinned as he scowled in annoyance.

'Are you a couple?'

I shook my head mutely and began to walk towards the school. There were a lot of kids hanging about outside, no doubt relishing the fresh air before the exams started. Danny and Anza followed me, pushing their way through the crowd until they were at my side.

'So you didn't kiss, Ingrid?'

'I didn't say that.' I grinned when Danny's mouth fell open and reached out to open the door, before noticing the sign stuck up outside.

"By order of the Principal: Today's exams have been cancelled. Please return home and prepare for lessons as normal tomorrow morning.

All members of the Safety Patrol report to the Safety Patrol office immediately."

'Cancelled?' Danny asked, 'but I studied for hours!'

'What could have happened to make her cancel the exams?' Anza demanded, a worried frown settling on his face as all thoughts of myself and Ingrid fled his mind.

'She was arguing with the Superintendent yesterday,' I answered, 'and Ingrid gave her report in. maybe it was something about that?'

'Ingrid got the exams cancelled? Cool!'

I couldn't share Danny's enthusiasm as I opened the door and made my way to the office, hardly hearing Danny and Anza's debate as they followed. I had a bad feeling, as thought something had gone down and no one had told me. The feeling only worsened when I opened the door to the Safety Patrol office. Vallejo's high backed leather chair was in the middle of the room and the Principal was sitting in it. She was sipping a cappuccino and sitting with her legs crossed demurely at the knee.

Vallejo was leaning against a nearby desk, his face pale and two flags of colour on his cheeks. He kept rubbing his temples, a sure sign of an approaching migraine. 'Fillmore, it's about time you got here. Where are Karen and Ingrid?'

'Not here yet,' I said quietly, my eyes not leaving the principal's face. She looked pale under her makeup, and it didn't look as if she had slept much.

'What's going on?' Anza asked, as the door opened and Karen walked in, looking baffled.

'Ingrid's not with you?' I asked her.

'No, I didn't see any sign of her walking to school. Is something wrong?'

'I dunno.'

'Miss Third came to me yesterday evening,' the Principal began. 'Her report contained compelling evidence that the top five students had been blackmailed into deliberately failing the exams today. The motivation is believed to be to force reallocation of the scholarship fund money to different areas within the school.'

'That's why the exams are cancelled?' Vallejo asked.

'Partly, yes. The whole purpose of the exams is to assess the school, and if the results are influenced then they are useless. However, the main reason was that the nature of the threats was considerably vicious, including physical harm to the students themselves.'

'Who's the suspect?' Anza asked.

'Miss Tanja Rossi. I have security personnel positioned at the entrance of the school to apprehend her when she arrives.'

The Principal rose to her feet and checked the clock above the door. 'At this time my key concern is for Ms. Third's safety. She did say that there was a piece of evidence she hadn't included in the report. It was an answering machine tape, a recording of the threat that she received. It is a very compelling piece of evidence for the involvement of Harris in the case, although he is not the male accomplice.'

'Harris?' I demanded, my voice harsh. 'What have they threatened her with?'

The Principal licked her lips nervously, her blue eyes fixed on my face. I'd never seen her look so unsettled in my life. I looked over at Vallejo, who now looked rather green. 'Vallejo?'

'The tape's in my office, Fillmore. You'd better listen to it yourself.' Vallejo dragged a handkerchief across his sweating brow. 'You all should know.'

I brushed passed the junior commissioner and opened his office door. The tape player was on the desk and I hit play forcefully, not giving myself a chance to have second thoughts. The machine clunked and whirred to life as the others filed into the room, all looking scared and uncertain. I heard Ingrid pick up the phone, and a slightly tremulous "Hello?" before the male voice filled the room. It was heavily disguised, and was instructing her to throw the exams. I barely had time to analyse the sound before the enormity of what was being said penetrated my mind.

"You will throw the exams on Thursday. Ensure that you do not pass, even by accident."

"Or what?" That was Ingrid's voice, now sounding angry, rather than afraid.

The voice laughed and I heard Tehama gasp at the sound. She was staring at the machine in horror, as though she didn't want to hear what was about to be said. "We have been restraining someone who is quite desperate to get to know you better. We suggest that you don't tell anyone in authority, or we will punish you regardless of the outcome of the exams. Fail, Miss Third, or we will let Michael Harris have exactly what he wants. You."

The tape player switched of with a click. The sound was like a gunshot in the shocked silence of the room. I felt physically ill as the numb silence in my mind was filled with the clamour of panic. Karen had tears in her eyes and Anza and Danny both looked like they were trying not to be sick.

'Where is she?' I whispered hoarsely, trying to ease the acidic terror that was winding through me. 'Where is she?' I hurried to the door and back out into the office. The Principal was talking to someone on the radio and I ignored her, turning instead to the phone and dialling Ingrid's home number. It rang several times before Ariella picked up the phone, sounding sleepy.

'Hello?

'Ariella, it's Fillmore. Is Ingrid there?'

'What? No, of course not. She left for school over an hour ago.' Ariella's voice suddenly became cutting and edged with fear. 'Why, what's going on Fillmore?'

'She's not here yet.'

'Oh my god. She - she was worried about that boy Harris getting hold of her. Fillmore, what if -?' I heard Ariella take a deep breath, and heard the tears in her voice. 'I need to speak to the Principal.'

'She's right here. I'll go out and look for Ingrid.'

'Thank you.'

I handed the phone to Principal Folsom before turning to the others. 'Ingrid left home over an hour ago, and she's not here yet. It's only a twenty minute walk from her place.'

Vallejo swore and rubbed his temples again, before looking up at the door. Two burly men stood there, and between them was a harassed looking Rossi.

'I demand you let me go!' she shrieked, stamping her foot.

'No chance, love,' one of the men said amicably. 'Where do you want her?'

'Through there,' Vallejo said, pointing to one of the interview rooms. 'Tehama, you're with me. Anza, Fillmore, you two look for Ingrid. As soon as you find her let us know.'

'You got it. Keep us updated. If she squeals on her accomplice let us know.'

'Will do,' Vallejo said, his face grim.

'Wait, what do I do?'

'Danny, I want you to go and wait for Ingrid's sister at the front of the school,' Folsom said, her voice carefully calm. 'When she arrives bring her straight here. I'll call the police.'

'The police?' I asked. 'Will they come here for this?'

'If they know what's good for them they will,' the Principal growled. 'We have a great deal of evidence to indicate that a young woman is in a lot of trouble. No police chief in his right mind would want to admit that he sat back and did nothing for forty eight hours in a case like this. Besides, he's my brother-in-law.'

I felt a ghost of a smile despite myself before I grabbed my radio and made my way out of the door, Anza just behind me.

'Where do I start?' Anza asked.

'Take the upstairs floor. Check every door that you can. Harris is – he'll -' I stammered to a halt and took a deep breath. 'He's a predator. He'll want peace and quiet for what he's got in mind.'

'Got it.'

'I'll check the ground floor, and do it quickly.'

'I know, Fillmore. Every minute counts.'

Anza sprinted up the stairs, leaving me to run along the corridor, opening one door after another. Lines of tables and chairs greeted me at every portal. There were empty classrooms, full of pot plants and school displays. The blackboards were all wiped clean, blank canvases for the next lesson. There wasn't any sign of a living soul, except the various class pets.

I tried desperately to think over the cacophony of panic. I made sure I left the door of every classroom I checked open, so that I wasn't wasting time checking everything twice. I searched the toilets, the science labs and the maths rooms before a thought exploded in my mind. These rooms all had windows. Harris wouldn't want any potential witnesses, and the chances were he'd be looking for somewhere dark. In a flash of inspiration I ran towards the dark room, only to feel my heart sink as I flung the door open. The hazy red light showed nothing but developing equipment. There was no sign of Ingrid.

My radio crackled to life and I snatched it from my belt. 'Have you found her?'

'No, nothing yet,' Anza replied, his voice hissing and distorted. 'But I've just seen Antony Flint walk past below. I think he came from the playing fields.'

'Meet me at the front doors,' I instructed.

'Why?'

'We're going to bring him into the office.'

'Fillmore, we don't have any charges!'

'It doesn't matter. He's still a suspect in the case, and if we tell him that Rossi confessed, he might crack.'

'Is that allowed?'

'I don't care,' I growled, turning around and sprinting towards the front door. Distantly I heard Anza's clattering footsteps as he hurried down the stairs and ran in the same direction, panting as he tried to match my pace.

Flint was standing on the other side of the doors, his face grey with worry as he read the sign pinned to the doors. He looked up and saw Anza and me sprinting towards him. An innocent man would have stayed still, or perhaps just backed away slightly, but Flint turned and ran as though his life depended on it.

The doors banged back against the walls of the school as I burst through them and jumped down the steps, landing heavily at the bottom before racing after him. Some kids were still hanging around outside, cheerfully oblivious to the drama that was unfolding inside the school. They leapt out of the way as Flint came barging through and then turned to watch me and Anza following him. I cursed them in my head. Why didn't any of them try and stop him?

Flint ran out of the school gate and turned left, towards the park. I winced at the stitch in my side, but ignored it. For a skinny bloke he could run fast, and he darted across the road, dodging traffic before slipping into the quiet park. I dodged across the road a moment later, instructing Anza to run around the block and get to the other side of the park. He gave a grunt of acknowledgement and did as he was told, leaving me to track Flint through the mini paradise in the middle of urban America.

The park was a little haven. It was the same one that Ingrid had sat in, weeping over her parents. That memory brought another painful welt of emotion to the surface and I felt my face twist into a snarl. If she was hurt and Flint had anything to do with it, I'd kill him.

I could see him, limping now, as he tried to get away. The park wasn't very large, and he was already half way across it. I cursed my legs, which burned from the unexpected exercise. I wasn't unfit, but long distance sprinting really wasn't my thing. Ingrid seemed better at the longer chases. Actually, that wasn't true. She was better at herding suspects into a trap. I just ran and hoped they got tired before I did.

I grinned when I saw Anza skid to a halt at the other exit. Flint saw him too and slid to a halt on the damp grass. He turned to run the other way and saw me coming at him. In a matter of moments I had him pinned to the ground. Flint spat out grass and shouted, 'This is police brutality. I haven't done anything wrong!'

'Oh yeah,' Anza said, his voice low and threatening. 'Tanja Rossi told us all about the plan, and your involvement.'

'You're bluffing,' Flint muttered, but he didn't sound so sure.

'She's been saying about her brilliant plan, and how it only failed because of you,' Anza added quietly, and I felt Flint try and struggle.

'Her plan!' he yelled as I hauled him to he feet. 'It was my plan! She's nothing without me.' His face was flushed from his outburst, and it took him a moment to notice the smug look on Anza's face.

I shook my head and grabbed his collar, spinning him around to face me. 'Where's Ingrid?'

Flint's eyes darted around, but he shook his head. 'I don't know what you mean.' He made a strangled noise as I tightened my grip. Flint looked beseechingly at Anza, who just shrugged.

'Tell me!' I shouted.

'I – she - '

'Fillmore, maybe she's somewhere near the playing fields. That's where I saw Flint.'

'Is that right?' I demanded, wishing I could throttle Flint.

Wordlessly Flint nodded, and then gasped in air when I let go of his collar. 'Hey, you're going to go easy on me, right? I helped you!'

'Whatever gave you that idea?' Anza said coolly, grabbing Flint's arms and hauling him off. 'Get to the playing fields Fillmore. Find her.'

'I'm on it.'

I forced my legs back into a sprint and distantly heard Anza telling Vallejo that he had the accomplice, and to send back up. I could hear sirens approaching, and smiled grimly to myself. It sounded like Folsom had kept her promise and got the police involved.

I ran across the road again, grateful that the streets were quiet at this time of day. It took a few minutes to reach the playing fields, and once there I looked around. There were several buildings littering the periphery, most of them new and brightly lit, even during the day.

I looked along to the far end, beyond the goal posts, and saw three old, dilapidated sheds. They had been equipment sheds once, and Folsom was always saying that she was going to knock them down. It wasn't their tired, tumble-down appearance that caught my attention, but the light showing out through the cracks in the wood of the one on the right. There were no windows, but age and weather had made the wood swell, creating splits and gaps.

I ran towards the sheds, only slowing down as I drew near. There were no sounds except the soughing of the wind in the hedgerow and the distant twittering of birds. Creeping closer I pushed the door open carefully, fully expecting someone to rush at me.

When no threat came I walked slowly into the grimy little shed. There was a dark pool of liquid on the floor and I stared at it in confusion before the scene in front of me registered in my mind. Harris was slumped, either unconscious or dead, by the far wall, but I didn't give a damn about him. It was the petite figure, prone in the middle of the floor that I stared at in horror.

The dark fluid was blood slowly collecting on the floor. Ingrid was lying on her right hand side while a knife handle was sticking out obscenely from her left, just below her ribs. Her eyes were closed and her face was void of any colour. I gasped around the breath that was locking in my throat and felt my chest tighten in fear as I reached for my radio. 'Vallejo!' I practically shouted, 'get an ambulance, now!'

'Fillmore? What's going on?' Vallejo's voice sounded distant.

'Just do it. It looks like Harris stabbed Ingrid.'

'WHAT?' The radio speaker fizzed and crackled at the volume of the exclamation, but I ignored it. There was the brief sound of a scuffle at the other end and I heard Folsom's voice. 'Fillmore, where are you?'

'The old equipment sheds.'

'The police are on their way. Are you in any danger?'

'No, Harris is unconscious, I think.'

There was another sound of confusion and Ariella's voice came over, full of tears and terror. 'Fillmore, is she alive?'

Carefully I knelt next to her, not caring that the blood was soaking into my trousers. I reached a shaking hand to her neck and felt for a pulse. Her skin was still warm and soft, and I finally found a faint throbbing in the hollow of her throat.

'There's a pulse, but we need an ambulance quick. There's a lot of blood.'

'I'm on my way,' Ariella said, gasping around her tears. I thought about protesting, but I realised it would do no good. Ariella needed to be here. In case – in case it was the last chance she got to see Ingrid alive.

'Ingrid? Can you hear me?' I asked softly, my voice cracking as I tried to push the last thought out of my head. 'If you can, squeeze my hand.' I waited vainly for some sign of life, but none came. Gently I touched her cheek, and moved my fingers back down to her pulse.

I heard a little gasp of breath, and saw her eyelashes flutter. 'Ingrid?' I asked again, and this time she opened her eyes. They were clouded with pain and confusion, and her face twisted in agony.

'Hurts,' she whimpered softly.

'I know; an ambulance is on its way.'

'Harris?' she asked quietly as I put my left hand in hers, keeping my other fingertips on her pulse.

'He's out of it. What did you hit him with?'

Ingrid's hand tightened weakly on mine, and she frowned in confusion. 'Can't remember. I'm really tired.'

'Can you stay awake? Come on Ingrid, keep talking to me.' I searched around desperately for something that might keep her conscious. 'Ingrid, recite the table of elements.'

'No, Fillmore. I'm sleepy.'

'Please?'

Ingrid just sighed softly, and I knew she'd fallen unconscious again.

I felt desperate tears sting my eyes and cursed out loud. Where was the ambulance? Outside I heard the police and Ariella approaching, but I didn't pay them any attention until the door was opened wider and Ariella sprinted in, weeping openly at the sight of her sister.

The police grabbed Harris and checked his head. It didn't seem serious and I watched dispassionately as three officers stationed themselves around him, guns drawn, waiting for the paramedics to arrive and say it was okay to move him.

Distantly I heard the wail of different sirens approaching. Ingrid's pulse weakened further beneath my fingertips and I prayed that they would get here before it was too late.

I had promised that I would keep her safe, and I had failed. Now I could do nothing but watch and wait while she fought for her life.

I wouldn't let myself consider the possibility that she might lose.

**End of Chapter Seventeen**

A/N: My absolutle massive thanks to all reviewers, who variously praised and threatened me to get this next chapter out on Sunday... or else. Well here it is. The next one will probably be on Thursday, unless real-life really gets in the way.


	18. Faint

A/N: There is brief mention of rape and contraception in this chapter.

**Shattered**

By: Abellen

Chapter Eighteen: Faint

The paramedics charged into the equipment shed, moving immediately towards Ingrid. Gently but firmly they ushered Ariella and myself aside, calling out numbers and jargon to each other as they checked over the unconscious form of my partner. Ariella put a hand on my shoulder and I looked up at her. The tears were gone now, and instead she stared, ashen faced, at the scene in front of her. It seemed unreal, like we were watching a hospital drama on TV, rather than reality.

'Are you both next of kin?' one of the paramedics asked, his eyes taking in my bloodstained clothes without so much as a flicker.

'I'm just a friend,' I said quietly.

'I'm her sister,' Ariella added, stepping forward shakily.

'Does she have any allergies?'

'No,' Ariella replied hoarsely.

'Any long term medical conditions?'

'No, just a recent head injury.'

'How long ago?'

'About a week.

The paramedic nodded and turned to his colleagues. Two men had lifted Ingrid with great care onto a gurney, and a young woman was examining the wound around the knife. She looked up and nodded at the man in front of us.

'She's probably going to need to go straight into surgery,' he said, his tone softening from business-like to compassionate. 'Is there any way you can get to the hospital? We can't have you riding in the back of the ambulance in a case this serious. We may need to perform resuscitation.'

Ariella made a choking sound and I shut my eyes, not wanting to think of the paramedics desperately working to bring Ingrid back to life.

'I'll take them.'

I looked up to see the principal standing inside the doorway, her eyes looking at the scene. Her face was pinched, as though she were trying hard not to weep. Her voice was soft, but still incredibly strong, and I knew that she'd probably race the ambulance there if she could.

'Very well ma'am. It'll be Hope hospital. They've got the best surgeons for this kind of thing.'

The principal nodded and stood aside as the paramedics rushed Ingrid to the ambulance. In a blare of sirens they were gone, leaving one young man behind to tend to Harris.

'We'll need to take him into hospital to check the head injury, but it's nothing serious,' the man said without compassion. 'He should be suitable for questioning within twenty-four hours.'

One of the police officers, a man in his middle age, nodded sternly and moved away to speak to Folsom.

'You get after that student of yours. We'll take care of the three suspects.'

'What'll they be charged with?' I asked quietly.

The police officer looked uncomfortable and shrugged. 'We'll have to wait and see. For now, attempted murder and accessory to attempted murder. We'll recommend that they are tried as adults, or at the least that their case is assessed before they are released from juvenile prison.'

'Come on, Miss Third. Your sister is going to need you,' the Principal said gently, ushering Ariella out in front of her. 'Fillmore, are you coming?'

'Wait!' I looked up at Karen's voice and saw the young woman and Anza sprinting towards us. 'Is there room for us? Vallejo and Danny said they'd watch the office and help the police.'

'Get in the back then,' the principal ordered as we approached her black Mazda, 'quickly now.'

Principal Folsom gunned the engine to life and steered the car with practiced ease out of the school parking lot and into the flow of traffic. The ambulance was already a dot on the horizon and the black saloon weaved in and out of the traffic behind it.

Ariella was taking deep breaths, the tears once again rolling down her face.

'Fillmore, there's a cell phone in my purse. Can you each call your parents and tell them where you'll be?' the principal asked, her gaze flickering from the road to the young woman at her side. 'Miss Tehama, there's a blanket under your feet. Please pass it to Miss Third for warmth.'

I did as I was told, moving my feet out of the way for Karen as I dialled my parents number. It rang three times before Dad answered.

'Dad, it's me. I'm going to be at Hope hospital, probably for the rest of the day.

'Cornelius, are you all right?' he asked, his voice sharp with alarm.

'I'm – I'm okay. It's Ingrid.'

'Is it serious?'

'Yeah. She's been stabbed.'

Ariella whimpered quietly in the front seat as my dad swore quietly at the other end of the phone. I could hear him picking up car keys and calling out to Mom.

'All right, Cornelius, we're on our way there. Do we need to give Ariella a lift?'

'No, it's okay. Principal Folsom is taking us. Dad, can you bring me a change of clothes?'

'Of course. I know you Cornelius, and I know you won't let us take you home until you know that she's all right. We'll bring whatever you need. Take care, son.'

'See you soon, Dad.'

I passed the phone to Karen and looked out of the window. Shivers raced across my skin and I clenched my teeth tight to stop them chattering. It felt so strange, like I was no longer in my body and experiencing life. It was as if I was separate and watching myself.

There was a word for it, but I couldn't remember what it was. Ingrid would probably know. A frigid, morose thought slipped into my mind. I couldn't stop thinking about what life might be like without her. How could I get by knowing that she was missing from my life? Every day something else would remind me of her…

I forced the thoughts away and looked up at the sky. Clouds were drawing in and rain began to patter on the windshield. There were one or two drops at first, and then a torrential downpour of heavy rain. The principal swore and slowed down as Anza called his parents.

'It's the next exit,' Ariella said quietly. She had straightened up in her seat and, although she clutched the blanket around her to ward off the chill of shock, she seemed more composed.

I felt like I was falling to pieces.

After what seemed like hours the principal pulled into the hospital parking lot, abandoning the car inelegantly across two bays before we all scrambled out of the back seat and hurried towards the doors, which slid open noiselessly.

I had only been into hospital a handful of times in my life, and two of those had been in the last ten days, asking after Ingrid. The young woman on reception smiled in a reassuring way and Ariella did the talking. I looked around at the comfortable chairs and the big potted plants. It was quiet, and I realised that almost all of my impressions of hospitals were of the panicky chaos of the emergency rooms. Here it was almost peaceful.

'Miss Third went into surgery ten minutes ago. If you take the elevator to the third floor there are some more comfortable waiting rooms. A doctor will be along shortly to explain what's happening.'

'Thank you,' Ariella said quietly.

'I'll get a nurse to come and have a look at you, and that young man,' she motioned to me. 'You both look as though you're going into emotional shock. It's nothing serious, but it needs watching.'

Anza nudged me and I realised he was offering me his coat. I took it wordlessly and shrugged it on, feeling it ward off the chill that seemed to be creeping into my bones. 'Do you want anything?' he asked quietly as we made our way to the elevator. 'I'll see if I can hunt down some coffee for you and Ariella.'

'I don't think I can drink anything,' I said hoarsely as I shivered again.

'It'll keep your hands warm.'

It didn't take us long to find the waiting room. Ariella and I sat on either side of the radiator, both lost in our own thoughts. I accepted the coffee that Anza had found and wrapped my hands around the Styrofoam cup. The liquid inside a muddy brown and the smell suggested that it was purely functional, rather than a pleasurable brew.

Ariella sipped it and pulled a face. A smile flashed across my lips, and then was gone. Mirth couldn't last long at a time like this. Besides, it felt wrong to be laughing, or even smiling.

Ariella reached out and touched my hand, making me look up. 'Thanks for finding her, Fillmore. The police were taking ages and – and I think you found her just in time.'

'I hope so,' I said quietly, looking at my bloodstained jeans. Ariella looked at the blue denim now turned rust brown from the knee down.

'It's hard to think she can be okay when she's lost that much blood,' she said quietly.

'I know. I wanted to pull the knife out, but I didn't think it was a good idea.'

'You did the right thing,' a young woman said from the doorway. I looked at her and noticed that she was wearing scrubs. She had a clipboard in her hands and was looking at the paper on it with a small frown on her face. 'Miss Third?' she asked, and Ariella nodded. 'Is it all right to discuss your sister's condition here, or would you prefer to speak in private?'

Ariella looked around and shook her head, 'Here's fine.'

'Okay.' The doctor sat down and picked up a pen, checking through her documentation one more time. 'Your sister is still in surgery, and is likely to remain there for a few more hours. The knife had perforated her spleen. It was too severe to save the organ, and the excessive amount of blood suggested arterial damage. We're in the process of removing her spleen.'

'Doesn't she need it?' Ariella asked. 'Can she live without it?'

'Yes, she can. The spleen is an organ for filtering the blood. It's a major component of the immune system and your sister will be more susceptible to infections and illnesses. However we prescribe penicillin or alternative antibiotics on a daily basis until she reaches adulthood, and give her vaccinations against more serious infections. It doesn't have a serious effect on life expectancy, as long as all health concerns are treated quickly. We always attempt to keep the spleen intact where possible, but we had no choice in this case.'

'Is she going to be all right?' Ariella asked quietly, and I could see the doctor's hesitation.

'I can't make any promises, Miss Third. Providing she survives the surgery and that she doesn't acquire any infections then you can expect her to be out of the hospital in a week.'

'That soon?'

'The human body is a resilient thing. If it weren't for the pain she could leave sooner, but she'll need strong medication to help control it.'

The doctor reached into a pocket and pulled out a small torch. 'I'll just do a quick exam of the two of you. The receptionist said that you appeared to be in shock. Who was it who found her?'

'Me,' I muttered and took off my glasses as the doctor knelt in front of me. She shone the light into my eyes and then checked my heart rate, before repeating the process with Ariella.

'It seems that you've escaped the worst effects of shock. Stay warm and call someone immediately if you feel dizzy or faint. Sometimes a nasty scare can throw the body into disarray. Someone will be back for you as soon as Miss Third is out of surgery.'

'Thank you,' Ariella and I said at the same time.

The doctor slipped past two people standing in the doorway and it took me a second to realise it was my parents looking pale and alarmed. Mom was beside me in an instant, a hand on my shoulder. 'Cornelius, are you all right?'

'Yeah, just a bit shaken up,' I muttered, not lifting my eyes to her face. I realised she was staring at my jeans and added, 'None of it's mine.'

'Your dad's got some clean clothes. Why don't you go and change? Just bin what you're wearing.'

I nodded, rising automatically and taking the jeans, t-shirt and sweatshirt that Dad was holding out to me. I heard Mom settle next to Ariella and talk to her in a quiet voice. I couldn't hear her words, and in a moment I was around the corner and into the bathroom.

I changed slowly, my fingers numb and clumsy. The sweatshirt did little to warm me up and I looked up at my reflection in the mirror over the sink, seeing nothing but hollow guilt and haunted horror. I looked back at the dirty t-shirt and jeans and scraped my fingernail against the denim absently. Mom was a psychologist, and while I knew that she probably meant the stain wouldn't come out, it occurred to me that I wouldn't be able to wear the jeans or t-shirt again without being reminded of today. Even if the blood came out of the fabric it would still be staining my mind and my memories. It would be a blatant reminder of how I'd failed to keep my promise and keep Ingrid safe.

Ruthlessly I shoved the clothes in the bin and swiped a tear from my cheek. I could cry later, when I was alone, and when I knew how the day would end.

I picked up Anza's coat and made my way to the waiting room. Anza and Karen were huddled together, their respective parents on either side of them. Karen's face looked tear-stained, and I noticed that Anza's hand was clutched tightly in her own.

'Thanks, man,' I said, giving him his coat back.

'No problem. Are you going to be okay?'

'Yeah, I guess so.'

Anza just nodded in understanding and went back to waiting.

The minutes slipped by at a tortuous pace, crawling around the clock. Lunch time passed by and one by one people went to find food. Dad made me eat a chocolate bar, and Mom insisted that Ariella have a nibble of a sandwich, but neither of us felt like eating.

Finally a middle-aged man walked wearily through the door, but gave the room a gentle smile. 'Miss Third has responded well to surgery. She's in intensive care, and she should regain consciousness within the next twenty-four hours.'

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. It was as though a shroud had been lifted from the room. Principal Folsom was smiling and Karen was hugging the life out of Anza. Ariella was crying again, but this time they were tears of relief and happiness, while my mom smiled and offered her tissues.

I put my hands in my pockets and rolled my shoulders, feeling the tension of the hours bite at my muscles. I couldn't quite bring myself to smile with everyone else. I couldn't believe Ingrid was really going to be all right. I'd seen the blood and heard her pain, and it was impossible to believe that she could come out of this and carry on with her life, the same as before.

'I'm afraid I can only allow two of you to see her,' the doctor said quietly.

'Fillmore, do you want to come with me?' Ariella asked, barely hesitating. When I nodded she smiled encouragingly and the pair of us followed the doctor.

'I feel that I must tell you that she is not completely out of the woods yet. We won't know if there were any serious side effects of blood-loss until she awakens.'

'Is that likely?' Ariella asked.

'She's a strong young woman, but it's not impossible. Miss Third, if I may have a word with you alone before you see your sister?'

Ariella frowned in concern, but motioned for me to go into the room. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck prickle and shivered again. I had my suspicions about what the doctor wanted to talk to Ariella about. It was hard to believe that Harris hadn't tried to assault Ingrid, but I'd hoped that she'd got her injury fighting him off, rather than after the event. Now I wasn't so sure.

I moved quietly through the intensive care ward, and saw Ingrid lying in a bed next to the window. The rain was still running down the glass and I frowned at the sight of her pale face. A livid bruise was clear on one cheek, and I could see another one on her collar-bone just above the hospital gown. The heart monitor was beeping and I watched it, hypnotised. It was strange that a life could be reduced to just a single, solid rhythm repeating time after time.

Her left hand was bandaged to hold one of the many drips in place and hesitantly I reached out and touched the top of her right hand. The skin was warm beneath my fingertips and I let out a breath that I hadn't realised I'd been holding. A few hours ago she had been cold to the touch, with only the faintest trace of life in her. Now it was obvious that she was very much alive, just sleeping.

I took her hand in my own, wrapping her petite fingers in my larger palm before stroking my thumb across her skin absently. A nurse came in and smiled at me before injecting something into Ingrid's drip. I watched curiously, but didn't ask any questions until Ariella came in. Her face was pinched and angry, but it melted when she saw her little sister so peaceful.

'Are you okay?' I asked quietly, not wanting to disturb the other patients.

Ariella nodded mutely before she shook her head and hissed, 'I hope he rots!'

'Harris?'

Ariella nodded fiercely, 'And the two who helped him. They don't deserve life outside of jail.' She took a deep breath and looked me squarely in the eye. 'He raped her. The police asked for a sexual assault kit, which they carried out after surgery. It came back a resounding positive. The doctor said they'd already taken a small blood sample for HIV testing. He wanted to know if I gave consent to give her emergency contraception.'

I looked back at Ingrid and closed my eyes for a moment before Ariella touched my shoulder. 'She'll be okay. She's strong and intelligent. I agreed to his suggestion. I know that it's Ingrid's choice but, well, she can't speak for herself right now.'

'What about the HIV? Is she strong enough to deal with that?' I asked quietly, tightening my grip on her hand.

Ariella didn't reply, and I bowed my head, wishing that it was all over, and that Ingrid was awake, and healthy and smiling again.

'I should have stopped him. I should have followed her everywhere,' I muttered.

Ariella shook her head fiercely. 'This isn't your fault, Fillmore. You can't blame yourself.

'I promised.'

'You can't promise to always keep people safe. It's – it's a risk. You either live in a bubble, always safe but never really alive, or you take what life throws at you. You can't make that choice for other people. You know Ingrid almost as well as I do. If you'd followed her she would have fought you every step of the way. If you had been there maybe you'd be in surgery, or worse, the morgue.'

The room fell silent again and Ariella pulled a couple of chairs over before guiding me gently into one. I didn't let go of Ingrid's hand. I couldn't bring myself to lose that contact, even for a moment. Every word she said was true, but I didn't feel any better about it.

We talked quietly as the day wore on, but it wasn't until the sun set through the stormy clouds that Ingrid's eyelashes fluttered and she opened her eyes. Ariella had gone to the bathroom and I'd been dozing with my head on Ingrid's mattress. Only when her hand moved slightly did I open my eyes to find her looking at me.

'Thank you for saving me, Fillmore.' she said softly, before a small smile curved on her lips.

I reached out to wipe a small teardrop from her cheek and whispered, 'Thank you for staying with me, Ingrid.'

**End of Chapter 18**

A/N: Well, we're nearing the end of the story now. I'd say at most there are a few more chapters to go, which will sort of introduce the problems that the next story addresses.(Neither HIV nor pregnancy I should add.) As always thanks to my reviewers. Any suggestions for the sequel title are welcome are still welcome!


	19. Forlorn

**Shattered**

By: Abellen

Chapter Nineteen: Forlorn

When I opened my eyes again Fillmore was gone. A different hand, slimmer and more feminine clutched at mine, the grip tight as though it was trying to hold me in the world of the living. The room was lit with the harsh light of the overhead lamps rather than the sun, and I narrowed my eyes against the glare.

'How are you feeling?'

I looked at Ariella and tried to smile reassuringly, but the warm, fuzzy mist of the anaesthetic was long gone, and the pain in my side was rapidly becoming unbearable.

'That bad, huh?' Ariella asked softly, squeezing my hand before reaching out to push a button. 'I'll get the nurse to give you some more pain medication. They said it would be bad.'

I nodded, and then frowned in confusion. My memories, normally so crystal-clear were decidedly fuzzy around the edges. I wasn't sure what was real, and what wasn't. My parents were nowhere to be seen, and I asked the most painful question first.

'Are Mom and Dad really dead?'

Ariella gave a little jolt of surprise, her face morphing into a look of horror. 'You don't remember?'

'I – Yes, sort of. Everything's just really confused. I thought maybe I'd dreamt it.'

Ariella shook her head mutely and shuffled her chair closer to my bed, as though attempting to comfort me with her proximity. 'They died eleven days ago. There was a car accident…'

'I hit my head,' I said, nodding as the memory sharpened, and with it the events of the past week or so fell in to place.

'I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Harris,' I mumbled. 'I thought that I could solve the case before it got that far. I hoped I wouldn't have to report him for anything. Now…'

'He's at the police station, along with the two that helped him,' Ariella said grimly, her face hardening into anger. 'Fillmore caught the male accomplice, along with the other boy… Is it Anza?'

'Yeah.' I let out a groan of annoyance which quickly became a grunt of pain as my ribs ached. Something suggested that movement or speech in excess was not a good idea, and instead I frowned. 'I knew it was Rossi. All the clues were pointing towards her, but Flint! He was the male accomplice, and I spoke to him first when I questioned people. He sneered at me for going to the most obvious suspect. I can't believe it was him all along!'

'I don't know all the facts,' Ariella said quietly. 'You'll have to wait until Fillmore comes in tomorrow. Maybe he can tell you.'

'Is he okay?' I asked.

'Physically, yeah. Mentally I'm not so sure. I think you scared the life out of him.'

I shut my eyes for a moment. 'He feared it. More than anything he was scared of me being hurt, of me being raped and him being too late to help,' I felt tears prickle my eyelids and one of two spilled over my lashes to land heavily on the pillow.

Ariella got a tissue and wiped gently at my face. Her hands were soft and elegant, like Mom's had been and I felt the grief and self-pity well up in me again.

'I'm sorry I can't be Mom for you, Ingrid,' Ariella said softly. 'She'd have known what to do.'

'It's okay,' I said quietly, my breath hitching as I sobbed. 'I just wish things were normal again.'

Ariella stayed quiet for a while, before saying, 'If you think about it Fillmore wasn't entirely too late.'

'No, he saved my life, but I don't think he'll see it that way. What am I going to do?'

'About Fillmore?' Ariella asked.

'About everything.' I sighed miserably and cuffed at my tears again.

'I suppose the only thing you can do is take it a day at a time. I know that's probably the most feeble advice ever, but it's all I can think of.'

The nurse came in and gave me a sympathetic look, taking in my tear-stained cheeks and pain-filled eyes. She checked my pulse and temperature before she went out of the door. In a matter of moments she was back with some tissues. They were the soft ones with lotion on, and I smiled gratefully.

'Well, I hate being in hospital when everything is starched half to death,' the nurse said quietly. 'I'm Rosemarie. If you need anything, just ask.' The young woman injected some pain medication into my drip line. 'You'll start to feel woozy quite quickly,' she warned, before she nodded to my sister and departed.

'When you've gone back to sleep I'm going to go home and get some things. Do you want anything, other than some pajamas that cover up your butt?' Ariella asked, making me chuckle weakly.

'Some books.'

'Any in particular?'

'No, just whatever is lying around.'

'Fillmore will probably be back as soon as his parents let him. They waited until he was too tired to complain before taking him home. You won't be on your own for long.'

I tried to struggle into a half sitting position and grimaced as pain shot through me. 'Ariella, what exactly have they done to me? It really hurts!' I touched my fingers to the area that was stinging and could make out the rough ridge of a bandage around my torso, beneath the hospital gown.

'They had to take out your spleen. The knife nearly went straight through it.'

I gave a small frown of thought, and then said, 'Maybe I should have hit Harris harder.'

Ariella gave a small, tired laugh and leant over to kiss my forehead. 'Sleep well, Bronze.'

'Bronze? Dad used to call me that… I never found out why,' I mumbled sleepily.

'Because we're Thirds of course. Third place gets a bronze medal!'

'When has a Third ever been anything but the best?' I asked, yawning. My eyelids felt heavy again, and the pain was receding fast. 'Ariella?'

'Uh huh?'

'Can we have a cat?'

Ariella bent down again and kissed my check, and this time her voice sounded tight with tears. 'When you're well you can have anything you want, but you've got to get better first.'

I nodded, too tired to reply, and barely felt her pull the sheets up to cover my shoulders before I was peacefully asleep. I stayed locked in a dreamless slumber until the sun began to creep in between the blinds that covered the window. The hazy light fell on my face and I opened one eye to give the sun a critical glare. I moved to roll over, before going rigid as the pain stabbed into my side again. It wasn't as bad as yesterday, but it was hardly comfortable.

A doctor looked up from his examination of another patient and smiled at me. 'Good morning, Miss Third!' he said cheerfully. 'Are you still in pain?'

'A bit,' I said quietly, easing myself into a half sitting position and trying not to wince.

'Well sitting up, talking and not demanding instant medication is always a good sign. I think we'll be safe to move you out of the ICU and into a private room. I believe your sister has brought you some more comfortable attire. I'll send a nurse in to give you a hand.'

'Um, thank you.'

I watched him go and vaguely wondered if his enthusiastic bedside manner was genuine, or if it was just a result of a twenty hour shift and more caffeine than the human body could stand. Rosemarie came into the ward a couple of minutes later and pulled the curtain around the bed, before rummaging through the bag my sister had brought.

'All right, Miss Third. I want you to try and get dressed yourself. Once the doctor has deemed you not to be at death's door we try and get you on your feet as soon as possible.' She winked cheerfully. 'I'll be just the other side of the curtains. Call out if you need me.'

She undid the ties that held the papery hospital gown on and carefully removed the needles from my arm that held the drips in place. I winced throughout the process, but didn't whine and she gave me a pleased smile before she left me to my own devices.

I looked at the pajamas that Ariella had found and noticed that she'd had the sense to make sure they were baggy enough not to touch the wound. I pulled on the dark green pants first, only pausing for breath once or twice as a sudden movement made the injury sting. Getting into the top was a bit more difficult because lifting up my left arm just hurt too much. In the end I struggled into it and lay back on the pillows, exhausted.

'Done!' I called out, resting one hand against the bandage.

Rosemarie peered around the curtain and nodded in satisfaction. 'Good. I'll just change the dressing while we're here, and then we'll see if you can muster the strength to walk to your room.'

'Walk?' I groaned. If changing into different night clothes had made me this tired I couldn't see how I was going to walk anywhere.

'It's only three doors down, and we'll take it slowly. Then you can stay in bed for the rest of the day if you want.'

I lifted up my top to just below my breasts and watched with trepidation as the nurse used a pair of scissors to cut the bandage away. She picked up a spray bottle to moisten the dressings before peeling them carefully away from my skin. There was one incision about four inches long down the middle of my chest, towards the bottom of my ribcage. It was a neat, straight line and I noticed that there were no stitches to hold it together.

'That's looking fine,' the nurse said. 'The stitches are in the tissue below, holding it together. They'll dissolve away, and you should be left with nothing but a thin, flat scar.' She removed the second dressing and I winced at the angry skin. The wound that Harris' knife had left was ragged, and the doctors had carefully stitched it together. 'This one will probably be worse. I'm going to put some antiseptic salve on that, and then we'll bandage you back up again.'

I stayed quiet through the nurse's ministrations and tried not to make any sound of discomfort. She worked quickly and carefully, obviously very aware that any sharp or sudden movements were likely to cause pain. The antiseptic stung and I made a small hissing sound, unable to stay quiet any longer. 'It'll fade quickly,' she said reassuringly, 'and it's got anaesthetic properties, just to help with the skin irritation. I can put the drips back in for you, or you can wait until you've had something to eat before taking some tablets for the pain. What would you prefer?'

'Tablets,' I said after a moment's consideration. The crook of my arm was already quite bruised and I didn't like the idea of another needle in my skin.

'All right, you rest there for a minute and I'll make sure your room is ready.'

I lay back on the pillows and shut my eyes. I had only been awake for an hour at most, and already I felt like I could sleep for another year. Resolutely I shook my head and eased myself upright. Lying around wasn't going to help me get better, at least, not much.

I put my right foot down on the floor and then eased my left foot down to meet it. Nothing hurt, but my legs were very shaky and I felt a shiver or two go through me before I pulled myself together. I didn't quite trust my legs to support my weight so I leant back against the mattress to wait for the nurse.

'Shouldn't you be in bed?' a familiar voice asked quietly. Fillmore had made his way silently across the ward and was standing a few feet away with his arms crossed, trying to look stern. He seemed to be having difficulty maintaining his frown though, and a smile of relief kept flickering across his lips.

I smiled and tucked my hair behind my ear. 'I've got to walk to my room, apparently. It's the tough love approach to recovery.'

Fillmore shook his head in disbelief and I noticed that he was very tense. Despite the smile on his lips I could see the tension in his arms and neck and I gave a little frown. 'You didn't get hurt yesterday, did you?'

'No, I'm fine. Why?'

'Ariella said that you and Anza caught Flint. I didn't think he'd go with you quietly.'

'He didn't. He ran into the park, but we cut him off. It was a good thing Anza saw him or…' he trailed off and looked at the floor, swallowing hard, 'I might not have found you in time.'

I pursed my lips together and said, 'I'm sorry for not telling you what was going on. I just couldn't risk them lashing out at the other victims.'

'You thought you could solve it by yourself, I know,' he said with a sigh. 'I know.'

I looked up at him and noticed the dark shadows under his eyes and the tired lines in his face. 'Fillmore, did you sleep at all last night?'

'Yeah, kind of.' He shrugged as though it didn't matter, his brown eyes never leaving my face. He was looking at me as though he was trying to memorise my features, or perhaps he was trying to drink in the sight of me alive. I wanted to reach out and touch him, just to let him know that I was all right, and reassure myself that he was going to be okay. Instead I clenched my hands into fists. I couldn't touch Fillmore, not with the memory of Harris' assault still fresh in my mind.

'Miss Third, are you all right?' Rosemarie asked as she approached, bringing me away from horrific memories and back to the present. 'You didn't have to get out of bed until I came back, you know.' She smiled at Fillmore in greeting, and I could tell that the nurse's sharp eyes had taken in his exhaustion as quickly as I had. 'If you're tired, Mr Fillmore, the coffee machine on the second floor is the best. It's got some flavour to it.'

'Thanks. I'll get some in a bit.'

'Did Ariella bring me any books?' I asked as I accepted Rosemarie's help and took a step forward, only to wince as the skin around the wound pulled and stung.

'She brought a small library with her. I know you read fast, but I think she just picked up every book in the house,' Fillmore replied, watching me carefully as I took another step.

'Gently, Miss Third. Don't rush yourself,' the nurse reminded me.

Fillmore walked slowly beside me; always close by but never actually touching my skin. It was as if, even though there were only a few inches between us, a chasm had opened up and there was no way to bridge the distance. 'Are you sure you're all right doing this?' he asked.

'I'm fine,' I retorted, my tone impatient at my own weakness. 'If I don't try to get better, I won't.'

'It is with the doctor's permission, Mr Fillmore,' Rosemarie added reassuringly. 'Today she just needs to walk a little way, and then tomorrow we'll try getting her to stay up for a couple of hours. It helps keep the skin flexible as it heals, and it helps maintain muscle strength.'

It took far too long to reach the room for my liking, and I felt terribly weak by the time I got to the bedside. 'Stay standing up as along as you feel you can,' Rosemarie said gently. 'Then get into bed and get comfortable. You've made very good progress today. Press the call button if you need me. I'll go and find your sister and let her known where you are.'

'Thank you.' I leaned back against the edge of the bed and closed my eyes for a moment, trying to muster the strength to stay on my feet.

Something warm touched my arm and I flinched away, half in fear and half in surprise. Fillmore withdrew his hand quickly and I saw the hurt in his eyes before he looked down at the floor.

'Sorry,' I whispered. 'I'm just -'

'Don't worry, I understand,' he said, cutting me off with a sharp shake of his head.

'I know that you're nothing like Harris, Fillmore. I – I'm just jumpy and -'

He backed away slightly and motioned towards the bed. 'Why don't you get some rest, Ingrid? I've got to get to school.'

'Okay,' I whispered, trying to keep my disappointment out of my voice. 'I'll see you later.'

Fillmore nodded quietly before he turned and walked away, leaving me to slip between the stiff sheets of the hospital bed.

I wanted to call him back, to beg him not to leave me behind, but Rossi's words came back to haunt me. Why would Fillmore ever want to have a relationship with me after this? How could we ever be more than just partners? I let the tears slip down my cheeks onto the pillow as the pain well up inside my chest. I felt as though I was trying to pick up the shattered pieces of my life, but every fragment cut my fingertips, and every day brought nothing but sorrow. It was hard to see how the future could be bright when the present seemed so dark, and I felt so very alone.

I didn't know that just outside the door to my room Fillmore was leaning against the wall, trying to hold back his own tears as I wept.

**End Of Chapter Nineteen**

A/N: There's just one chapter and a (probably short) epilogue left! The Next chapter will be posted on Thursday, which I think is Thanksgiving in the States. The sequel "Shadows" will probably be posted in the new year.

As always thanks to all reviewers. This chapter pushes "Shattered" to the position of longest fanfiction currently on so thank you all for your support!

Someone asked who Flint was. He's sixth in the grade listings, and he was the guy Ingrid talked to in the library in chapter seven.


	20. Fragments

**Shattered**

By: Abellen

Chapter Twenty: Fragments

About an hour after Fillmore had left Ariella slipped into my room, her arms full of books. She was smiling, but tentatively, and I could only manage a weak response. I pushed the remains of my breakfast away, having nibbled half heartedly at one bit of toast, and tried not to look too miserable.

'I talked to Fillmore just now,' she said quietly as she stacked the books up on the nightstand next to my bed.

'He said he had to get back to school,' I muttered, only to shake my head when I realised he'd been lying, just to get away from me.

'School's closed today, Ingrid. The police don't want the students messing up their crime scene,' Ariella said gently as she picked up a Terry Pratchett novel and put it in my lap. 'I think you need to talk to him. He looks – haunted. I'm sure he's blaming himself.'

'He doesn't want anything to do with me.' I felt the tears start again and wiped them away furiously. 'He got out of here as fast as he could.'

Ariella sat down in the chair and crossed her legs before she tied her hair out of the way and pushed her glasses up her nose. She gave me one of her most critical looks before asking, 'Ingrid, how long have you known Fillmore?'

I shrugged and tried to think. 'Nearly two years I think.'

'You've known him a lot longer than I have, but even I can see that he isn't trying to run away from you. He's not rejecting you because of what happened with Harris.'

'Well, what is he doing then?' I asked.

'He's trying not to scare you.'

I crossed my arms and looked at my sister. She was twisting her fingers around each other, as though she had to say something that she didn't want to. 'He doesn't want you to think that he'll ever be anything like Harris,' she added.

'What? Why would I think that? I know Fillmore wouldn't - couldn't behave that way.'

Ariella sighed and reached out to take my hand in hers. 'It's a natural response after an assault. Rape victims tend to visualise all men as threats, even if it's only subconsciously. He told me that you flinched away from him, and he thought he was just making things worse.'

'No! I – I just don't want - '

'To be touched?' Ariella asked.

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. 'I don't want to find myself thinking of Harris whenever Fillmore touches me. Even if it's platonic the first thing that comes to mind is Harris' hand and…'

I choked to a halt and looked out of the tiny window to my room. It looked out in the same direction as the ICU ward and I could see a small piece of blue sky and green lawn framed by the glass. Ariella held my hand tighter and I looked back at her, the misery written all over my face.

'It's not just him though, it's everyone. Even the doctor.'

'It's normal,' Ariella said, her voice quiet but urgent. 'You know Fillmore's mom is a psychiatrist? She sometimes works with the police to get testimonies from people, and to help the victims get back to normal after a crime has been committed against them. I was talking to her yesterday and she was telling me what to expect as you get better.'

'Will it go away?' I asked, trying not to think of a life where I was too scared to touch anyone ever again..

'Eventually, but you can't expect to be exactly the same as you were before it happened, at least not straight away. You might never be the same girl you were forty-eight hours ago.'

I shut my eyes and tried to think around the jumble of emotions rioting around inside of me. 'What would you do, about Fillmore I mean?'

Ariella shrugged and huffed a breath as she thought about it. 'I'd tell him the truth. Explain to him that you don't want to think of Harris, but you can't help it. Tell him that it will pass eventually, but right now you need him as a friend.'

'But I – I want to be more than his friend, or I did before all this happened,' I whispered.

She smiled when she saw the look on my face. 'Ingrid, if you two are meant to be a couple, or whatever, it'll happen. It'll just take a bit longer, that's all. You've got to be patient. You can't rush yourself.'

I smiled slightly as I settled back onto the pillows. Ariella might only be seventeen, but sometimes she seemed pretty wise. 'What about you and Mark?' I asked, only to laugh as Ariella blushed.

'What about us?'

'Are you going out?'

Ariella spluttered for a moment, before she shook her head. 'No, we're just friends.'

I couldn't help but roll my eyes and laughed again when she threw a tissue at me. 'Hey, you can't throw stuff at me, I'm injured.'

'You seem all right to me!'

I stuck my tongue out and threw the tissue back at her before I said, 'You should go out with him. He makes you happy.'

Ariella nodded. 'He is very nice, but, I don't know. I feel like I should be concentrating on looking after you.'

'Ariella, you're bright. You can concentrate on two things at once,' I replied as I picked up the book and flipped to the first page.

Ariella leaned over and fluffed up my pillows, letting me lean back more comfortably. 'We'll see about Mark, but you've got to promise me you'll talk to Fillmore.'

'If he ever comes back, I will,' I replied.

'Promise?'

' I Promise.'

'Good. I'll go and find him then.'

I looked up from my book, my eyebrows raised in surprise. 'He's still here?'

'Of course. Yesterday he saw you a few minutes from death, Ingrid. I very much doubt that he slept at all last night. He needs to be near you, even if it's only in the same building. He isn't going anywhere.'

'Oh.' I bit my lip as my sister left me, feeling the butterflies flutter uselessly in my stomach. It was all very well talking to Ariella, but talking to Fillmore was something else entirely. It was even worse because part of me yearned to reach out and touch him, to reassure him that it'd be okay, but another part of me feared the memories that physical contact would bring.

I pulled a face and tried to concentrate on the book. It was easy to understand what had happened with me. I could look at it logically and remain totally calm. I could almost pretend that it was just a dream until something happened to link the memories with reality. Then logic fled before the senseless fear, and I was overcome with uncontrollable panic.

I shifted position and felt another twinge in my side. The nurse had given me four tablets to take. One was an antibiotic, and the rest seemed to be focused on keeping the pain to a minimum. Thankfully I hadn't ended up as woozy as before, but I was finding it harder to concentrate on the book than usual. I picked at the cold, tasteless toast and sipped the fruit juice, which was a lot easier to stomach. The only other food in the meagre breakfast fare was a yogurt, which I despised at the best of times.

I was about ten pages into the book when Fillmore knocked on the partly open door to my room. I glanced up and gave him a smile, which got stronger when I saw that he had something wrapped in a serviette. 'Is that more edible than yogurt?' I asked, pointing at it.

'Yeah, I got you the last chocolate muffin.' He put it on the table in front of me like someone making a peace offering, and I put the book to one side. 'Ariella said you weren't eating anything.'

'That's more because I wasn't being fed the right stuff,' I said shyly before breaking off a chunk and holding it out to him. 'You look like you could do with the sugar.'

Fillmore took the piece of sticky cake from me and sat in the chair, close enough for me to reach out to, but not close enough to crowd me. 'Thanks. I didn't sleep well. I ended up having – well, I just didn't sleep for long.' He reached out to steal another chocolate chip and I could see the dark shadows under his eyes. His shoulders were slumped, and it was strange to see him as anything but sure of himself. The Fillmore I knew never admitted defeat, but the young man in front of me looked as broken as I felt.

'Fillmore, I'm sorry for flinching earlier. I didn't mean – it's not because I'm frightened of you,' I stammered, trying to find the best words to say what had to be said. 'It's more a case of I'm frightened of everyone, or every man, anyway.'

Fillmore shook his head. 'You don't need to say sorry. I just, I didn't know what to do or say. I kind of hoped that it wouldn't hurt you or change you, and that sounds stupid.'

'No it doesn't,' I replied softly, 'but it's not possible to go through that…' I faltered as the memories assailed me, and I saw Fillmore look up sharply before I took a deep breath. 'I just wanted you to know that I would have flinched whoever it was.'

Fillmore closed his eyes for a moment, and when he spoke again his voice was rough with emotion. 'I should have been there. I should have known…'

'How could you?' I demanded, feeling a flare of anger. 'You're not all knowing. I didn't tell you what was going on, so how were you to know?'

'But I suspected it. From the first time Anza and I talked to Harris there was something about the way he spoke about you. I should have been with you.'

'If you had walked me to school this morning I don't think it would have made any difference. They would have knocked you out, or worse.'

I took a deep breath and rubbed my hands together, suddenly feeling cold and shaky. 'Fillmore, you saved my life. Whatever else you couldn't prevent doesn't matter. If it wasn't for you I would be dead.' The words sounded leaden and chilling in the quiet room and Fillmore looked at the floor, not meeting my eyes.

Very tentatively I reached out and touched him. It was just a tap, a brush of skin on skin but he looked up at me in surprise. I swallowed hard, successfully keeping the memories of Harris at bay, but only just. The tears swelled in my eyes again and I murmured, 'I need you now, as a friend. Can – can you do that?'

Fillmore passed me the box of tissues, and nodded carefully. He didn't return my touch, which I was grateful for, but I did see some of his strength and determination return. He was no longer slumped, and the shadows under his eyes didn't seem as dark.

'Of course I can, Ingrid. Why wouldn't I help you?'

'I – I don't know. I thought you might not want anything to do with me, after what Harris did. Rossi said -'

'You shouldn't believe anything she said,' Fillmore said flatly, his voice becoming icy. 'You don't, do you?'

I shrugged and wiped my eyes again, feeling caught between misery and embarrassment. 'She was pretty convincing.'

'Ingrid, what Harris did to you was terrible and I feel ill just thinking about it, but that doesn't mean I don't want to be around you anymore. It wasn't your fault. You didn't provoke him.'

'But what if I did and didn't know it?'

'You didn't, okay?' he reached out a hand and stopped himself with a sigh, crossing his arms instead. 'What Harris did was unprovoked. He was obsessed with you, that much was obvious.'

'I don't think he was all there. In the shed he was talking strangely, as though he were listening to someone else.'

'It was probably an act,' Fillmore said cynically. 'He'll probably try and plead diminished capacity or something.'

'I don't care what happens to him as long as I never see him again,' I whispered.

Memories from the shed flickered across my mind's eye in rapid succession and I shuddered, before frowning in puzzlement. 'Did you ask me to tell you the table of elements when we were waiting for the ambulance?'

Fillmore looked embarrassed. 'I was trying to keep you awake.'

'With the periodic table?'

'It was the first thing that came to mind. I should have started with something easier, like your name.'

I snorted in disbelief. 'I was tired, it doesn't mean I couldn't remember it.'

'Yeah, right.'

We were both smiling. They were tired, weak smiles, but the tension that had been filling the room seemed to evaporate away. Fillmore's stomach groaned and I grinned. 'Haven't you eaten breakfast?'

'Not much, no.'

'You'd better get something before you starve to death.'

'Yes, Mom,' he said sarcastically as he stood up. 'Do you want anything?'

'Some bread or something would be good.' I looked at the breakfast tray with distaste before I realised I hadn't asked him an important question.

'Hey, Fillmore?'

He looked over his shoulder from the doorway, 'Yeah?'

'Are you okay, going back to the way we were?'

'Of course,' he said softly, as though it were silly of me to ask. 'How long ago were you thinking of going back?'

'About two weeks?' I replied quietly after a moment's thought. Two weeks ago I'd been Ingrid Third of the Safety Patrol, as normal as a girl genius can be, rather than Ingrid Third the injured orphan.

Fillmore paused for a moment, no doubt working out what life had been like two weeks ago. So much had happened it seemed like another world. Finally he smiled and nodded. 'I'd like that.'

I grinned in return before nestling down between the bed sheets as he left the room, whistling quietly to himself.

The tension that had been building up in my muscles gradually melted away and my eyelids fluttered down over my eyes. An hour ago I had looked at my life and seen nothing but debris. Now my existence was still in fragments, but it no longer seemed an impossible task to rebuild it. As long as I had Fillmore to help me, I knew it would be okay.

He didn't seem to mind that we were going back to being just friends and for a moment I thought carefully about what had been happening two weeks ago. Life had been normal, but in retrospect there were little signs of what was to come. Oh, nothing about Harris or the car accident, but little things to show that what was happening between Fillmore and me was already a bit more than just friendship. I knew that I had passed the occasional flirtatious comment, and now that I thought about it some of Fillmore's actions and words hadn't been entirely platonic either.

I smiled to myself and gave a little sigh of contentment. Two weeks ago there hadn't been an "us", but there had been the promise of something more than partners and friends. That sounded good to me, and it was all the more reason to concentrate on recovering. Gradually I drifted towards sleep, content in the knowledge that I had someone to help me mend the broken pieces of my life.

Whatever happened, I had Fillmore.

**The End**

A/N: There is an epilogue, so don't panic. It will be up on Sunday. Are there any loose ends I haven't tied off? Let me know and Happy Thanksgiving!


	21. Finally

**Shattered**

By: Abellen

Chapter 21: Finally

The sky was cloudy and the air crisp as I entered the park and made my way unerringly to the swings where she sat, absent-mindedly tracing patterns in the dust with her toe. Fourteen days ago I had knelt in her blood and begged her to stay with me. Twenty-four hours later she had been sitting up and laughing. Even if the laughter never reached her eyes it had been a sign of life that I had treasured.

Now I realised, with every passing day, that while Ingrid had survived part of her had died in that equipment shed. Something had slipped through my fingers that day and even now I was still struggling to work out what it was. She smiled less, and laughter was as rare as snow in July. Tears fell far more often, and they were not the shallow, wasteful tears of a bad day, but the deep sobs of someone in too much torment to bear.

I straddled the swing and leant back against the chain, watching my partner carefully. Her black hair hung in a thick curtain, and the wind played among the ebony strands. Her green eyes were downcast, intent on the dust beneath her booted feet. She didn't wear the dresses anymore, and I had a deep suspicion that she'd thrown them away. Instead she wore baggy black jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. A scarf was draped around her neck, but it wasn't doing very much to protect her from the cold.

As I watched she suppressed a shiver, and I knew that if I rolled up her sleeve she would be covered in goose-bumps. She sighed and lifted her head, fixing me with a questioning look. 'What is it, Fillmore?'

'Why are you outside in the cold?' I asked gently, knowing that if I said it in the wrong tone Ingrid would get defensive.

'I needed some fresh air. There's only so much bed rest I can take.'

'Does Ariella know you're here?'

Ingrid looked uncomfortable. 'She had to go into college to explain to her tutors why she wasn't back yet. I left her a note.'

'Ingrid-' I sighed, before standing up. 'Come on, I'll walk you home. I know you need the space, but you shouldn't be out here on your own.'

Ingrid stood up wearily and followed me, her hands in her pocket in a feeble attempt to stay warm. She took a deep breath and looked around the park for a moment, before leaving the tiny paradise behind and walking along the sidewalk. Her bootlaces made soft noises as they trailed along. Ingrid hardly ever did her boots up, and I was always amazed that she didn't walk out of them all the time.

'The HIV test came back today,' she said quietly, and I felt my heart thump painfully in my chest. 'It was negative, but they want to check again in a few months, just to make sure.'

'Well, that's a good thing, isn't it?'

'Yeah, of course,' she shrugged, but didn't smile. 'It just makes it seem more real, you know? I mean sometimes I can forget it happens, and then I hear something from the doctor, or see the scars and – it's like I'm never going to leave it behind.'

'What about – um – I mean – do you know if you're…' I trailed off awkwardly, and couldn't help but smile when Ingrid got what I was talking about.

'Pregnant?' she asked, and this time a tiny smile did touch her lips. 'No, I'm not, and yes, that's a good thing too. I don't know what I would have done if either test had come back positive.'

She sighed again and shrugged before lifting her eyes to the sky. 'I mean, I'd have lived with it I suppose, but I'm glad I don't have to.'

'Have you talked to the police again yet?' I asked, tucking my own hands into my pocket. She looked so hurt and alone. It took all my will power not to pull her into a hug, but it couldn't be that way any more. She had to make the first move. Harris had torn Ingrid's trust in any man apart and it was going to take a long time to rebuild that. It didn't mean I was going to give up being there for her though.

'They said they didn't need my testimony. In the face of the evidence all three confessed. Flint and Harris are likely to get a longer sentence than Rossi.'

'Why?' I asked, unable to stop the sneer twisting on my lips. 'Tanja deserves everything she gets.'

'You kissed her once,' Ingrid reminded me, her eyes reading my face with ease.

'More than once actually, but that's not the point. She wasn't like that then. She was, well, a brat, but she wasn't so ruthless.'

'That changed pretty quick. She's the kind of girl who won't stop at everything, and I doubt Juvie will change that.'

I looked up and winced when I saw that we were walking past the cemetery. I would have taken the longer way back to Ingrid's house if I had remembered, but the forlorn rows of tombstones were already decked out to our right, behind a low wall.

Ingrid stopped and jumped up on the wall, swinging her leg over with barely a wince. She didn't jump down the other side, but looked across the gentle green slopes with a distant eye. After a moment I jumped up next to her and took off my coat. When I held it out to her she shook her head at first.

'Ingrid…'

'Oh, all right.' She took it and slipped it on. 'Thanks, but you'd better not get cold.'

'I'll live.'

I took out the cell phone that Dad had bought me only a week ago. He'd said that they might be a public nuisance, but sometimes they could be useful. I dialled Ingrid's home number. It was fine that she'd left her sister a note, but I knew Ariella. She wouldn't be happy if she thought Ingrid was out on her own. I smiled as the older Third picked up the other end, sounding slightly breathless. 'Fillmore! Is Ingrid with you?'

'Yeah, she's just getting some fresh air. How did you know it was me?'

'Caller I.D. of course. That and you call so much that I recognise your number! Can you ask Ingrid to be home by six, and make sure she doesn't get ill?'

'Sure.'

'Thanks, Fillmore. Take care.'

The line disconnected and I looked up to see Ingrid watching me. She was trying to look annoyed, but her eyes were smiling, even if her lips weren't. 'Why did you do that?'

'It'll stop Ariella worrying. You don't seem to be ready to go home yet.'

'It's not home anymore. It's just a house.' Ingrid swept her hair behind her ear. 'Ariella and I have been looking at new places. We've found a great apartment complex in town and were thinking of buying one. Our inheritance will cover it easily.'

I nodded. Ingrid's Dad had been a top scientist, and although I didn't know what her Mom had done I knew that she had been a career woman.

'Are you still waiting until the New Year to move?'

'Probably. I need to be back at school, and Ariella needs to get back to college. We'll see, anyway.'

Ingrid leaned back and lay along the top of the wall with her arms behind her head. It can't have been comfortable, but she didn't seem to mind. Her t-shirt had ridden up a bit and I could see a thin band of white skin. My eyes followed the hem of her top until I saw the lower edge of the ragged scar. The dressings were off of it now, but it was still an angry red. A few days after her surgery an infection had taken hold in the flesh and although it had been cleared easily it meant the scar would be worse. A permanent reminder of what Harris had done to her.

I clenched my jaw at the thought and only looked up when Ingrid's hand covered the end of the healing wound. Her eyes were intent on my face and she shook her head slightly. 'Stop thinking about it, Fillmore. I have. Well, most of the time, anyway.'

'When are you going to see the counsellor?' I asked abruptly, prepared for her usual arguments.

Ingrid groaned end rubbed both her hands across her face. 'Some when. In fact I'll go when you go. Finding that scene must've been pretty traumatic, and I'm sure you want to spill all of your deepest darkest secrets to a stranger,' she said bitterly.

'Ingrid, it's not something that people are making you do to meet some stupid target. It's for your own good.'

'Maybe I don't want what's good for me right now. Maybe I just want what's easiest. Everyone seems to be thinking of my well-being, but not about what I might want.'

'That's because what you want isn't good for you,' I said, hearing the anger in my voice and trying to modulate it. Ingrid was still easily frightened, and the last thing I wanted was for her to withdraw from me.

She met my eyes, a petulant frown on her face before she saw that I was genuinely concerned and sat up with a sigh. As she did so she wobbled slightly and I grabbed her shoulders to stop her falling off of the wall. Ingrid steadied herself and looked at my hand on her shoulder. There was a moment of breathless uncertainty. I was physically cringing because I knew she didn't want to be touched, and she was watching my hand in surprise.

Carefully she lifted her own hand to mine and squeezed my fingers gently before moving my palm away.

'Sorry,' I mumbled.

'Don't be. For one thing people touching me to stop me falling over doesn't bother me now. Secondly, it's you. You'd never hurt me.' She spoke in a quiet, confident voice, and I raised my eyebrows in surprise

She laughed at my expression. It was a quiet sound, but for the first time in ages she looked really happy. 'Fillmore, I knew that all along anyway. It's just prolonged touch of any kind still reminds me too vividly of Harris. Otherwise…'

'Otherwise?' I asked.

Ingrid blushed beautifully and bit her lip. 'Otherwise, let's just say I'd be looking for excuses to be near you.'

My smile instantly became a grin and Ingrid looked away, still flushed pink with embarrassment.

'Let me know when you feel like making up those excuses, okay?'

'Sure.' She grinned and then looked around in surprise as a droplet of rain splashed on her hand. One was followed by many and soon the leaden sky had opened and was pouring rain on the cemetery.

'Come on,' I urged softly. 'Let's get you home.'

Ingrid scowled at the storm above before giving a nod of agreement. 'Okay, I suppose it's back to lying on the sofa and watching the discovery channel.'

'I'm surprised you aren't tired. It's a long walk to the park, even for someone who's not been stuck in bed for two weeks.'

Ingrid didn't reply as she jumped down from the wall, her boots landing heavily on the sidewalk. I followed her example and looked closely at her face. Now that I'd mentioned it the strain was clear around her eyes. She was always pushing herself too hard, and this was no exception.

'Are you going to be okay to walk home?'

'If I'm not we're a bit stuck,' she wrapped my coat tighter around her body and picked up her pace. She wasn't quite limping, but it was obvious she was in pain. 'I'll be fine, Fillmore. You worry too much.'

'You don't worry enough, Third.'

She stuck her tongue out at me and I shook my head in disbelief. 'What a mature come-back, Ingrid.'

'I'm too young to be mature,' she replied with a smile. 'Mature can wait for High School.'

It took us about ten minutes to get back to her place, and she shrugged out of the coat before handing it back to me. 'Thanks for walking me home.'

'No problem. Are you going to be online tonight?' I asked. We'd gotten used to chatting over the Internet in the evenings, and it was going to be a hard habit to break.

'Probably at about eight.'

'Okay, I'll talk to you then. And Ingrid?'

'Yeah?'

'Get some rest, okay? School's not the same without you.'

Her green eyes flashed with something and she gave a small, cunning smile. 'I'm sure I'll be back before you know it.'

Something about the way she said it made me raise my eyebrow curiously. 'You've got another four weeks of rest to get through,' I reminded her.

'We'll see,' she said with a wink. 'See you later, Fillmore!'

'Bye, Ingrid.'

I watched her slip through her front door and turned up the collar of my coat. Despite the miserable weather I was smiling. It only took little things, like her laugh and her smile, to give me hope. The young woman that I knew might have changed, but underneath she was still there.

She was still my Ingrid.

**Finis.**

A/N: I would like to heartily thank all of my reviewers who have made this story such a pleasure to write. There will (most likely) be a sequel in the New Year, unless real life bombards me with obstacles. I look forward to seeing you then, and wish you Happy Holidays!

Abellen x


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